The serrated steel spikes of the Mountain-Crushing War-Club whistled through the air, tearing the silk curtains of the divan into fluttering ribbons.
Chief Enforcer Grau threw his entire two-hundred-pound frame into the overhead strike.
His late-stage Nascent Soul battle-qi flared in a jagged yellow halo around his armor, rattling the marble floor tiles and cracking the wooden table legs.
Elder Sterling’s sword leaped three inches from its scabbard with a clear, ringing chime.
Beside the hearth, Sera Thorne vanished into the shadows, a silver throwing dart cocked in each palm.
Both protectors moved simultaneously to intercept the murderous blow.
On the divan, Kaelen Vance didn’t even drop his porcelain teacup.
He raised his free left hand and waved them back with two fingers.
