The energy bottle at his side warmed, and the world slowed around him, objects splintering into clouds of shadows. The Legionary came at him, raising her unmetal blade, and a dozen duplicates of the weapon hovered in front of her, possible paths that her attack might take. As she swung, some of the ghosts faded, and one rapidly became solid, thick with momentum. Gyre stepped aside, his movement feeling floaty and weightless, and aimed a cut at her helmet. The blow didn’t penetrate the unmetal, of course, but it snapped her head back and sent her staggering away.

The other Legionary had his blaster rifle up, bringing it to bear. As Gyre concentrated on the weapon, lines of light lanced out from it, forecasting the path the bolt would take. The Legionary’s finger tightened on the trigger, and Gyre just had time to interpose his sword and hope like the plague.

Even with his heightened perception, the blaster bolt was too fast to track, a burst of white light with a crack like a thunderclap. He flinched instinctively, but the energy was already dissipating, splashing into nothingness around Gyre’s blade. The energy bottle grew even warmer—Naumoriel had warned him that this defense, similar to the one that protected ghoul constructs, burned power prodigiously. But the Legionary’s shock was obvious. Before he could recover, Gyre snatched an alchemical from the pouch at his side and hurled it in a perfect trajectory that burst against the soldier’s mask in a shattering concussion. He stumbled drunkenly, tripped, and fell.

His first opponent came back in, her shield raised, sword probing toward his ribs. Gyre faded to his left, meeting her crosscut with his own blade, and the ghoul weapon shivered and whined as it scraped against the unmetal. The soldier disengaged and slashed high, bringing her shield around to block his counterstroke, but the shadows speeding ahead of her attack let Gyre duck neatly under the blow. He angled his sword up and thrust into her armpit, where the overlapping insectoid armor had a gap, and it sliced easily through the resilk and leather underneath. After a frozen moment of shock, Gyre stepped away, silver blade bloody to half its length, and the Legionary collapsed with a clatter of unmetal.

Gyre let his concentration slip, and the shadow-world fell away. Pain pounded in his temples and all around his new eye. He glanced down at the energy bottle—a simple metallic cylinder with a thin line of inlaid crystal around its circumference—and saw that its soft glow had dimmed considerably.

Kit hit him from behind, wrapping both arms around him and nearly lifting him off the ground in her excitement.

“That was amazing!” She bounced against him, staring down at the fallen Legionaries. “Chosen defend—well, I mean, obviously not—I’ve never seen anyone move like that. You were—and you just—”

“Kit!” Gyre tore free of her grip. “Did you find it?”