Sylas opened his eyes to warning flares of danger. There was no pause, no fanfare, no moment even to breathe. It was as if the world had come with every intention to burn him down to the ground.
But he had been through such a thing too many times. It was just another fire, another bit of danger, another checkbox on the list of things he had been through.
He reached out his hand—the Scorned Wraps there, so very obvious to him now, as though the little girl had spoken their heft, their binding weight into existence.
And he caught it.
Chi. Chi. Chi.
A bone lance, thick and heavy, spiraling with a menace that seemed to want to drill through his palm and into his chest.
But with a slight clamp of his fingers, its rotation ceased, and the world fell to silence.
With a sweep of his visualization, Sylas realized that both Jala and Alex were a half step behind him, both covered in cold sweat, as though they had noticed that this attack was far from normal.
