Olisnia sits near Alma, both hands over the metal restraint. She hums softly, her pale gaze glowing. Eliana watches intently, awe warming her chest. She could swear that the tattoos lining her body are actually moving, shifting.

The metal begins to creak under her hold and it quickly begins to crumble, into dust.

“Oh,” Eliana leans back in surprise, a giddiness building in her stomach. She grins, “That is amazing.”

Alma smiles softly as well, her shoulders ...