The contest caused walls to break apart, columns to tumble, and masonry to linger in the air, gravitating around the central mass of conflicting magic. The Archon was at the top of his power, rested, well fed, and brimming to the tip of his horn with the emotional energy that all changeling fed from. Not an ounce of that was being used to fuel the magic he now wielded. The same could not be said for Chrysalis. Her magic was weakened, her horn strained. Her face was held in a desperate grimace of pain and effort, but in the end, the conclusion was inevitable.