Auren caught Lucian's arm just as the ice began to surge.
Cold magic cracked through the air, sharp and furious, before Auren's grip pulled him back a single step. It was a small movement, barely anything at all, but enough to stop the spell from finishing its shape.
"Don't," Auren said quietly.
Lucian's breath was uneven, his chest tight with fury. Frost still clung to his fingers, crawling up his wrist like something alive, ready to break loose at the slightest push.
"She's provoking you on purpose," Auren continued, lowering his voice just enough to cut through the storm boiling inside him. "If you strike now, she gets what she wants."
Lucian didn't look at him.
His eyes stayed locked on Elyndra, burning colder than any ice he could summon.
"She took her," he said hoarsely. "She's wearing her face like it's nothing. And you want me to stand still?"
Auren's grip tightened around his arm, firm but not forceful.
