Bonded To The Alpha God of War
And snapped her fingers.
The sound split through the garden.
Fire bloomed at the tip of her finger. It was neither red nor orange, colors too ordinary, too mortal. This flame was dark gold, alive with an almost sentient glow, its edges licked with violent, living violet.
It did not flicker, rather it pulsed.
The flame stretched upwards, unnaturally tall, bending without wind, moving as though it breathed. The temperature dropped instead of rising. Frost laced across the stone beneath her boots in thin, creeping fractures.