Kaelen picked up his bamboo fan from the stone table and took a single, unhurried stride toward the open air.
Behind him, the grotto trembled like a dry leaf caught in a mountain gale. Above him, five miles of purple clouds disintegrated into blinding, white-hot plasma as the orbital Punishment Ray plunged toward the ridge.
The heat was so fierce that the gravel on the porch turned red, then soft, melting into small glassy pools.
Claire Vance held her hands high, sweat running down her pale temples as she reinforced the spatial barriers.
“Kaelen,” Claire shouted over the rising roar of the heavens. “The beam’s five hundred yards out. Its focusing ring is holding the charge for a final targeting cycle; when it releases, the descent will be almost instantaneous.”
“I see it,” Kaelen said mild-manneredly. “Hard to miss something that bright.”
He stepped past the threshold of the cave, feeling the blistering updraft tug at the hem of his blue hemp robe.
Across the terrace, the Garrison Commander stood locked to the granite flagstones in Mina’s frost. His teeth chattered with icy venom, but his eyes blazed with manic delight.
