20
Frankle held Daemi’s gauntleted hand in his as he fell ever faster down the shimmering blue tunnel, lightning flashes blinding him as the storm crackled and roiled around them, reaching for them, pulling at their hair as they plummeted past.
With each flash of energy, the coiling storm inside his chest reacted, answering the call, the weld song that filled his mind trying desperately to fight back against the thunder but being slowly drowned. The grip on his fist was fading, he was falling too fast, faster than the others, the storm calling him irresistibly onward.
Calm, Frankle. Calm the storm. Stay with me.
It was Wilt, the voice inside his mind, but it, too, was losing the battle with the chaos, and he felt something cut free as another flash of lightning shook them, bright blue
