Eighteen
For a single moment that seems to last forever, Ryn and I stare at each other across the foyer, fear growing, rising, filling the space between us.
Then the lightning hits.
It strikes somewhere above us with such force that the foyer’s marble floor shudders beneath our feet. Ryn shouts my name, but the explosion of the domed ceiling swallows up his voice. A bolt of light shreds the air and strikes the floor between us, creating a huge zigzagging crack through the marble. A second later, broken pieces of ceiling begin to rain down on us.
I throw myself out of the way. The marble is a lot harder than anything else I’ve landed on recently, and my shoulder screams out in protest. I roll across the floor, pull myself up onto my knees, and throw my arm out toward the corridor we jus
