Prince Tarrant's forces surged through the forest like a plague of armored locusts, their torches carving violent gashes of light through the darkness. Reed felt their approach through the merged fragment embedded in his palm—each rider a distinct pulse of malice against his newly awakened senses.
"We're outnumbered," Kalia hissed, the moonlight reflecting off her elven features as she notched an arrow to her bowstring. "Fighting is suicide."
Reed nodded, his mind racing through possibilities that wouldn't have occurred to him before the fragments merged. The violet crystal pulsated against his skin, suggesting strategies and avenues of power previously unimaginable.
"We don't fight," he decided, the fragment's energy coursing through his veins. "We disappear."
