Modriana was still waiting for Jaenor's response when one of her team broke.
The witch on the far left had been building tension since they'd landed. Her crystal burned bright, her hands shaking slightly, the particular frustration of someone trained to project authority watching that authority get ignored completely.
Jaenor hadn't looked at her once. Hadn't acknowledged her presence, her crystal, or her combat stance. Had treated her and the five others like furniture arranged around the one person worth addressing.
That was apparently the limit.
"Enough," she snapped.
"You are disrespecting the witch council!"
Her hands came up, and she channeled hard, pulling origin energy through her crystal with the aggression of someone who'd decided that demonstration was the only language this situation understood.
