Too close.
Too strong.
My grip slips.
For a second—just one—I lose control of the movement. And that’s all it takes.
The chain at my neck snaps. I feel it before I see it. A painful tug, then nothing.
The medallion is gone, and my stomach drops.
The pendant hits the ground somewhere to my right, skidding across stone and dirt, catching briefly on a root before sliding free again.
The guard sees it, his attention wavering. That’s all I need.
I drive forward hard, knocking his arm wide, disrupting his reach just enough to break his line of attack. “Jamie!” I shout, my voice rough, urgent. “Grab it and run! Hide!”
There’s no time to explain. No time to think.
I have to trust him. Trust that he’ll move. Trust that he’ll understand.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him hesitate, then move.
Good.
The guard shifts again, trying to break past me, and I slam into him a second time, using everything I’ve got to keep him between me and Jamie, to block, to delay, to stop him from reaching that small, sliding piece of metal that suddenly feels like the most important thing in the world.
Before me, the fight continues in bursts of motion and sound.
Sonny lets out a breathless laugh as he ducks under another strike and counters, his blade flashing quick and brutal. Jack grunts as he drives an attacker back, his movements less refined but no less determined.
Caly slips between them all, controlled, efficient, every movement placed exactly where it needs to be.
And Solan… is a force of nature.
He barrels through one of the guards with a roar that feels more physical than vocal, sending him crashing to the ground before turning on the next with relentless precision.
The balance shifts, slowly, then all at once.
Jamie’s hand closes around the medallion.
The world changes.
Lightning cracks.
Not distant. Not overhead. Right here.
The strike is blinding, a jagged spear of white tearing through the darkening sky and slamming into the ground with a force that rattles everything.
The air snaps. Pressure builds instantly, thick and suffocating, like the world itself is drawing breath.
Every head turns. Even the guards hesitate.
The medallion flares in Jamie’s hand.
Not light.
Not heat.
