The wave of sand didn't crash; it solidified mid-air, a mountain of glowing blue glass suspended by the sheer friction of the Monk's will. The air grew so cold that the moisture on the wagons' canvas covers turned to frost, snapping in the wind like breaking bone.
Aden didn't draw his blade. He slammed his open palm against the leading edge of the dune.
*Harmonic Law: Thermal Dissipation.*
A shockwave of sapphire energy rippled through the glass tidal wave. Where the blue light met the Monk's indigo resonance, the glass didn't shatter—it sublimated, turning instantly from solid to a freezing, swirling mist. The massive weight of the dune vanished, replaced by a fog so thick that the Monk became a mere shadow in a sea of cyan vapor.
"Zero! Echo-location!" Aden commanded.
