A sharp crimson light burst from the tip of my staff, a line of frothing, ghostly flames. It struck the center of the portcullis and spread, licking along the bars, until the entire frame was covered. Wherever the fire touched, enchantments withered and died, the entire defensive formation beginning to crumble.
"Amazing," I whispered, staring in awe. Just what kind of magic had Incinderus invented? That was an eight-level spell, gone just like that. Sure, it was too slow to use in real combat, and there was no one actively opposing, but it was still incredible.
"No, stop them!" a hoarse cry sounded behind me, and Fable vanished from my side.
I winced, gripping my staff a little tighter, as a few screams rang out, silenced with the hideous crunch of bone and tearing flesh.
