My cold mind labeled it a near-fatal blow, quickly analyzing how to avoid a repeat.
I brought the Pen up again, forcing its tip to glow with an ominous dark light. There was an ugly resonance now, a swirl of opposing colors—my personal brand of magic fighting the leyline's primal strength. Above me, the arcs of color raged, but I found a wedge in their pattern. With mental clarity sharper than any sword's edge, I pressed forward in that wedge, forcing the energy to coil around me rather than crush me.
Gradually, the howling in my ears started to recede. The leyline's fury, once deafening, slowed like a thunderstorm running out of lightning. It wasn't that it had given up; rather, I had found a seam in its raging armor, a place where my command could interlace with its nature. I forced that seam wider, bridging hostility with forced submission. The entire cavern thrummed in protest, but I knew I was winning.
