Most of the cultists push into it,but the wall of fire suddenly parts, either dispelled or.... it would seem the enemy has a pyrokine! In sapphire armor with odd gold detailing, a figure makes eldritch signs and gestures as it siphons off and redirects the power of the mighty fire wall back towards the creator. The sensation of Aib's magic being manipulated in this manner is greasy and disgusting, rather like touching a rotting side of beef, the very magic in the air somehow feeling wormy, and an acrid stink rises up from the now baleful flame which comes for him. The cultists bow to the new figure striding towards Aib, even as he raises a blade also crackling with energy.