But I’m no Kalden. My vision falters, tunnels. I stumble.
Beneath the Sol, my fallen comrade’s roar turns gargled as I throw my hands forward, harnessing the vibrating energy in my palms. I wrap my fingers around the creature’s sinewy leg. The tips of my nightstone blades cut into its flesh. It howls, flinching away, but I refuse to loosen my grip. I clench harder and finally release the burgeoning energy.
Invisible flames erupt beneath my skin, licking through my veins and into my palms, burning me from the inside out, forging my body into something new: a weapon. Someone screams Yvonne’s name, yet my focus is on the excruciating ecstasy that’s more pleasure than pain. And when I release all the scorching heat into the monstrous creature, I nearly whimper in relief.
A tremor ravages through the Sol’s charred body. Its arms and knees buckle, and it collapses face first into its pinned prey.
“Yvonne!” someone shouts again.
The Sol’s body falls still for only a moment before it sluggishly lifts its head and peers deeply into the lens of Yvonne’s unmoving helmet.
With blood streaming down the blades of my cuff, which is still embedded in the charred leg, I gather the energy into my palm again. I need more power than before. I flip my left hand over and expose the slit in my glove to the sky, absorbing every bit of buzzing heat I can muster into my right hand. I feel the tingling warmth draining from the tips of the fingers on my left hand, then my toes, pulsing with everyheartbeat down through my right arm until an unfamiliar pressure builds at my fingertips. The heat culminates in my palm, bringing with it subtle vibrations like bolts of lightning racing down my wrist.
This has to be enough.
“Don’t!” Kalden shouts, though his words soften as they bounce across the sand.
Before I can release the focused energy, the Sol rears its impaled leg back, dragging me several inches closer to itself before snapping its gnarled foot back into my poised jaw.
My blades unlatch from the Sol’s leg as I slide against the sandy dirt until the back of my helmet collides against an unforgiving boulder, splattering starry flecks across my vision. The solar flare must’ve dazed the creature—otherwise, that kick likely wouldn’t have ended with me conscious. Or breathing. I concentrate on realigning the hazy image of the Sol while I scramble to regain my footing, reform the energy, and reach Yvonne before it’s too late.
As I attempt to climb onto my knees, a pointed blade embeds into the Sol’s neck. The creature collapses again on top of Yvonne, this time with finality. Its furled fingers twitch for a few more seconds before going still.
It takes several seconds to reel the surging power back in.
Gem slides her poniard out of the creature. Shimmering gold droplets spill off the blade onto the trampled ground as she rushes over to extend a hand towards me. “Are you okay?”
I ignore it, not wanting to accidentally torch her with the heat still vibrating within my palms, and slowly push myself to my feet. “I’m fi?—”
“Mentally, not physically,” she clarifies, whacking my shoulder. “What in the sun’s fiery furnace was that? Why would you throw yourself at a Sol?”
“I had to do something,” I say with a shrug.
“Demi?”
The strained whisper comes from beneath the Sol’s corpse, sparing me from Gem’s interrogation—for now, at least. My neck prickles from what I suspect is her bewildered glare that tells me she’ll have plenty of questions for me later.
Gem and I step towards the Sol once more, both of us more timidly than when the creature was alive. As Kalden and Demi reach us, we make room for them to roll the lifeless shell off Yvonne.
A small spark rhythmically jumps from the band encompassing the Sol’s neck. Another collar? A buzz ruminates from the spot where Gem’s blade pierced the edge of the bloodstained metallic strap.
“Demi?” Yvonne calls again, voice fainter and crackling now.
My attention returns to the death rattle of the next victim of the Hunt. Crimson flows steadily from the six punctures encircling her heart.
Demi crumples forward, choking on a sob. “Von?”
Yvonne huffs a weak, breathy laugh. “That bad, huh?”
Kalden kneels on Yvonne’s opposite side, tugging a square cloth from his knapsack. Tone softening with a rare tenderness, he asks, “May I?”
Yvonne’s helmet tilts down a fraction of an inch. Taking that as a nod, Kalden leans forward to cover Yvonne’s gushing wounds, then pushes his palm into her chest.
Yvonne winces, and Demi snaps, “What are you doing?”
“Applying pressure to compress the surrounding blood vessels and staunch the bleeding,” Kalden states matter-of-factly, like he’s done this before. He probably has, if his scars are any indication.
The magnetic tug on my senses heightens. A hazy golden aura pulses above Kalden’s gloved fingers, then disappears as soon as I blink.
