Turai and Gareth heard the explosion before they saw it. The booming echo rippled through the narrow streets, shattering the quiet of the imperial city.
Both of them instinctively scanned the nearby area with their magical perceptions and could feel nine distinct magical presences locked in battle. Turai's senses sharpened further, and then suddenly, one of those energies flickered out. It was unmistakable—the individual had been killed.
"That's close," Gareth murmured, his voice laced with a note of urgency. Without another word, he and Turai broke into a sprint, their boots pounding against the cobblestone as they navigated the winding alleys toward the scene of battle.
As they arrived, they could see the telltale remnants of a fierce struggle. Smoke curled into the night sky, and scorch marks were left across the ground where blasts of magic had erupted.