Rigelus was ten feet behind. Five. His hand stretched for her trailing hair. Lightning speared down the hall, shattering windows and statues in its wake. Bryce welcomed it into her heart, her back. Welcomed it into the tattoo there as Hunt’s power singed her very blood—and left it sparking. Lightning ruptured from her scar like a bullet passing through. Right into the archway of the Gate. She didn’t dare see if Hunt still stood after his flawless shot. Not as the air of the Gate’s arch turned black. Murky.
