The shockwave slammed into the turbine housing with the force of a derailment.
Vane felt his ribs groan under the pressure. He kept his head down and shielded Isole with his body as the air above them turned into a chaotic blender of mana. Metal shrapnel pinged off the titanium casing like hail, and the heat was blistering. The sound was a physical assault that rattled his teeth in his skull.
Then silence returned.
It was not a peaceful silence. It was the heavy, suffocating quiet of a structure that was holding its breath before collapsing.
Vane peeked over the edge of the turbine.
The center of the hall was a crater. The steel grating had been peeled back like the skin of an orange. Steam hissed from ruptured cooling pipes and filled the air with a thick, white fog.
"They are still standing," Isole whispered. She sounded horrified. "How are they still standing?"
Through the steam, the three silhouettes remained.
