A short bit ago…
One hundred meters beneath the battlefield, Quinlan Elysiar sat in the dark.
The pocket he'd carved was large enough for his body to occupy it comfortably. He floated at its center with his legs crossed and his palms resting on his knees, suspended by a gentle cycling of wind that kept him motionless in the pitch black.
His eyes were closed.
They'd been closed since the fight began.
The mana flowing out of him climbed upward through a hundred meters of compressed soil and rock, threading through the earth in channels that split into dozens of hairline veins as they neared the surface. They surfaced beneath the decoy's feet and fed into the illusion from below, pouring elemental energy into the projection that Kitsara's detached tail wore like a skin.
It was, without a doubt, the most intricate application of his magic he had ever attempted.
