Sister Melissa stood beside him, her hand wrapped around his forearm. Her beautiful, innocent eyes fixed on his, the same eyes that had looked at him with exasperation in the Paladin academy, that had scolded him about Elvish and knowledge and preparation.
Her lips moved, forming words he could barely hear over the crowd's celebration. "Gabriel, stop. You can't save her. It's too late."
The words registered somewhere distant in his mind, processed but not absorbed. His focus remained fixed on the scaffold, on the figure swinging from the rope, on the failure that had led to this moment.
Red smoke began seeping from his hands, sluggish at first, then faster, wrapping around his fingers like living fog. The crimson mist coiled up his arms, spreading across his chest and pulsing with each heartbeat.
His eyes began to glow, deep ruby embers igniting in the sockets. Should have made everyone notice.
