Celina stood still, her palm glowing faintly with the remnants of divine magic she hadn't known she possessed. Her breathing was heavy. Around her, the air shimmered with the residual pressure of her sudden outburst. The knights who had once aimed their blades at her and Cedric now staggered back in uncertainty, their gazes flickering between their trembling weapons and the strange girl before them.
"What the hell is that power?" Cedric whispered, his voice laced with awe and confusion. He took a step closer, his hand instinctively hovering near the hilt of his sword—not in threat, but in readiness.
Celina stared at her hand as if it didn't belong to her.
"I don't know," she murmured. "That shouldn't have happened."
