Howl of the unchosen
If Mara could snap that bond, she would shatter the queen’s position, leaving her no choice but to step down from command.
Mara shut her eyes for a beat, digging deep, pulling the magic thrumming beneath her skin. It was a quiet power, old and terrible, yet it answered her summons. Her fingers danced above the surface of the Arkana, whispering verses of arcana that - more than just a collection of words - were strings that connected her to the pulse of the earth itself. The air buzzed around her as her shape began to tessellate, her skin stretching and twisting into otherworldly forms, the sides of her body warping and shifting like shifting glass.
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