Something else.
The markings across its surface shift violently now, no longer subtle, no longer hidden, rearranging in patterns that hurt to look at directly.
Another strike follows. This time closer and louder.
The ground trembles beneath our feet.
“What the hell—” Sonny starts.
The sky tears. There’s no other way to describe it. One second it’s there—darkening green, heavy with storm—and the next it isn’t whole anymore.
A jagged line splits across it, sharp and wrong, like something has dragged a blade through reality itself and left the wound open.
The tear widens. Slowly at first, then faster. The air distorts around it, pulling, warping, bending light and sound in ways that make my head spin if I look too long.
“Back!” Solan roars.
We move instinctively, regrouping, using the moment—the confusion, the shock—to finish what’s left of the fight.
The remaining guards falter.
One goes down under Sonny’s blade. Another under Jack’s. Caly disables the last with a movement so quick, I almost miss it entirely.
And then?—
Silence.
Not complete. Not peaceful. But the immediate threat is gone.
My chest heaves as I drag in a breath that doesn’t feel like enough.
The storm builds overhead. Lightning strikes again and again.
The tear doesn’t close. It grows.
For a few seconds, no one moves. Breathing comes hard and uneven, the aftermath of the fight still humming through my muscles, but it’s not the adrenaline that holds me in place. It’s the sky.
Or what’s left of it.
The tear stretches wider, no longer a thin fracture but a jagged, pulsing wound carved through the green expanse above us. Light doesn’t behave properly around it. It bends, distorts, folds in on itself like the air has forgotten how to exist.
Another strike of lightning rips downward, so close this time, it feels like it hits inside my chest instead of the ground. The crack of it is deafening, but beneath the noise, there’s something else. A pressure. A pull.
The medallion hums.
Jamie still holds it clutched in his hand, his knuckles white around the metal, his eyes wide and fixed on the sky like he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.
“Jamie,” Jack says, voice rough but steady, stepping closer without crowding him. “Hey. Look at me.”
Jamie doesn’t respond.
I move before I think about it, closing the distance, reaching out just enough to brush his shoulder. “Hey,” I say softly. “Stay with me, yeah?”
That does it. His gaze snaps down, locking onto mine, and I see it then. Not just fear.
Awe.
“What is that?” he asks, and his voice is small in a way I haven’t heard from him before.
