The curse, now fully condensed into an armored man, struck without wasted movement.
Mana flared from his palm, forcing students into choking stupors. They snapped their arms over their eyes before the blinding light seared them. Any appreciation for the drifting feathers and the promise of Adam's sufferings was gone now—only a dread that made their stomachs churn and their legs wobble like jelly remained in their hunched forms.
The youngest threw themselves on the wooden platform, the dull thud drowned by their cries. They buried their faces into the starry fabric as if its dark tint could shield them from the light.
The oldest stood their ground, if barely. Those adept at dark magic wreathed their eyes in shadows, while others used similar means to barely peer through the light. But they fared no better than the younger ones. The dread was shared, not through sight, but through the feeling of Diane's colossal mana rumbling with restless abandon.
