The tremors made Adam's fist appear crooked, bloated, then decrepit as if to herald the horrors contained in the sphere. Even if he was the conjuror, just clutching it made his skin tingle and hair bristle.
But the time wasn't for memories. The puppet's fiery tsunami approached, the fiery tongues roiling like waves and the heat licking his sweaty face like a ravenous beast.
Resisting the icy shudder, he hurled it as the ground parted beneath his feet. He fell two kilometers down, his breath ragged and his heart drumming in his ears. If he wasn't on a flying island, he would have dug the ground deeper without hesitation; that's how horrifying this technique was—even to him.
As he took refuge and the flames obscured the fist-sized sphere from the puppet, the emperor saw everything.
