Waiting desperately, Shea held his breath. Why is he not reacting?
The High Elder concentrated with a lifetime of practiced skill to clear all thoughts from his consciousness.
He knew why the creature had come.
The snake lingered, tasting the air, waiting for some weakness to snatch—something that would betray the Hero’s location.
The moments stretched past.
Then minutes.
Exploding with repressed uncertainty, Shea thrust his hands through the sleeves of his robe and commanded, “Ish-Krothi Umbällä!”
Fingers gripping an invisible sphere now stretched and forcefully hurled the collected energy at his father.
The asp sparked, bursting into flames as the impact knocked it to the edge of the Pinnacle. Thousands of scales fell, tinkling to the unyielding stone as red glass.
--from Prelude to a Hero, Chapter One: TRUST
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