Adventure of Yllamaris 1

Frost tightens the wild field into silver blades. The rune scar beneath the split earth glows faintly, and ash spins in a low, uneasy coil around the opening.

The Gray-Cloaked Guard steps forward from the hush, armor clattering once, then stilling. His weapon falls from numb fingers into the grass.

Bram tenses at once. Elowen and the Elder stare, struck silent by the guard's sudden surrender.

Then a black shape peels out of the ash behind him, too fast and too low to be a man, driven by hunger and hatred. The Guard whirls too late, and the newcomer lunges for Yllamaris through the drifting frost.

Yllamaris exhales, and the air around the rune scar answers. A pale dome snaps into place, clear as glass and humming with pressure, sealing the lunging ash shape inside with him.

The black thing jerks upward, suspended inches above the frost. Ash and cold motes batter the inner surface of the dome, then slide away, unable to pass.

Yllamaris steps in and wraps the trapped creature in both arms. The impact shudders through the barrier, and a thin crack of violet light runs along his blade.

Bram lowers his weapon a fraction, still wary. Elowen and the Elder stare at the dome, while ash swirls uselessly against its edge. The guard's dropped weapon lies in the grass between them, and the dome rings once, loud enough to sting.

The black shape claws weakly inside Yllamaris's embrace, alive, trapped, and suddenly very quiet. Beyond the barrier, the city's cold reach feels one breath away, if the guard chooses either shelter or flight.