The first Crown runner moves.
It’s not a charge.
It’s a flicker—mask glinting, blade sliding out, body slipping sideways into the fog like a fish into dark water.
Eryndor’s shadow snaps, trying to catch—
But the runner’s reflection cloth distorts the angle. Makes the movement look half a step left of where it is.
“Contact!” Vexa snaps over comms.
Kaien’s voice hits like a hammer. “Engage.”
Everything breaks.
The world explodes into motion.
Theron’s stormfield bursts free—controlled, not wild. A contained arc of lightning snaps from his palm and slams into a Crown runner’s chest, throwing them backward into a broken stall. The smell of burned cloth and meat hits my nose instantly.
Gruesome.
Effective.
Cassian’s interference net flares—not visible, but I feel it in the air like p
