The inquisitor's words rang in my ears, adding to a mounting sense of dread. I called out to Zephyriss, only to find my mind blocked by the wall. I could feel the threads of the nexus and my mark traveling throughout the world, but nothing passed in or out, something not even Haven fully accomplished.
"He's right," Fyren's growl burned hotly in my mind. Hearing him seemed a small comfort, but his following words shattered that illusion. "Unless we kill the bastard, we're effectively helpless here."
"But how? I can't even touch Haven, and my magic is useless," I returned, panic seeping into my thoughts. "I don't even know if I'll be able to resist a fourth-level spell, much less an eighth!"
"Faith. We'll figure something out," he said.
