Crack.
A perceptible shiver ran through the air; the fabric of the earth was shifting.
Crack.
Shards of light rippled, enveloping the surroundings in a crystalline, prismatic green. Flickering glimmers vanished and reappeared on the embroidered paneling of the command tent.
Crack.
A rush of air, a surprised exclamation. The sound, like the clattering of potsherds, could be heard four tents over. A reverential silence.
Cheep.
An outstretched hand, a gout of heat. A Shining Palm.