The change came like a shiver beneath their skin and scales.
Erend and Eccar didn't see it at first. Their eyes were too locked on the slaughter of the grey creatures, their bodies too wrapped in momentum of their torrent of flame, walls of stone, a relentless tide of motion and abominations that want them dead.
But something shifted. The ash-filled air grew heavier, not with smoke or blood but with something else. They can feel pressure, or a presence of some other being in the distance. A weight that settled onto their chests like unseen hands.
They feel emotion in the air.
It surged in the windless silence between explosions and screams. They can feel sorrow so vast it felt ancient. Fury that feels sharp enough to pierce bone and hatred that seemed to stretch across lifetimes.
It pressed in around them like the world itself was weeping and screaming at once. And all of that were directed at them.
