The drunkard's terrified screams faded into the city's ambient growl, swallowed by the rapidly approaching wail of sirens. The sound wasn't distant curiosity anymore; it was a hunting cry closing in.
"Move!" Maya hissed, urgency overriding the pain in her voice. She shoved Ash forward, towards the deeper blackness at the alley's end. "That way! Go!"
Ash stumbled, his legs still shaky from the uncontrolled power surge and the brutal transition. The Ring pulsed hot and erratic on his finger, a trapped star burning against his skin.
He felt the conflicting energies – Fire's restless spark, Frost's icy recoil, Storm's chaotic swirl – battering against the wearying anchor of Stone.
The alley's mundane reality pressed in like thick, suffocating mud, muffling the cosmic symphony he'd barely begun to understand.
It made containment harder, not easier. The power had nowhere to flow.
