Mykal screamed as lightning bolts launched from his fingertips. Ten strands of brilliant energy, blinding in the early predawn, merged into one dense crackling beam. The lightning slammed into Carl’s chest. He released the bowstring. The arrow flew, but missed its target by a fair margin. The electricity coursed through Carl’s body and pinned the Archer in place. His skin bubbled. The putrid odor of burnt flesh permeated the air around them.
Mykal couldn’t curl his fingers. The bolts wouldn’t stop. He took a step back, and raised his arms. The lightning shot into the trees. Severed branches fell around them. Wood burned. Smoke rose in the air. He saw an opening in the canopy, and aimed his hands toward it. The beam coursed into the sky.
He tried focusing on his breathing. He knew he was
