As Reed heard the roar echo across the wasteland and felt the tug on his bond with the salamander, his instincts kicked in like a reflex honed over weeks of training. His body tensed, and without waiting for confirmation or discussion, he turned to Marek.
"She's close. I need to go."
Marek, still sitting against the cracked crater wall and nursing his arm, gave a weak nod. "Be careful…"
Reed didn't answer. He was already moving.
He bolted across the ruined terrain, his boots pounding against the scorched soil. Each step launched a small puff of ash into the air, but he hardly noticed. His mind was locked onto the tether between himself and his summon, a faint pulse of energy that guided him like a beacon through the broken landscape.
She was close—but also far. The strange contradiction itched at his thoughts.
Half a mile? That didn't make sense.
They had been together during the teleportation error. She couldn't have been thrown that far. Not unless something moved her—or she ran.
And then, cutting through the dry, still air, came the sound.
Clashing.
Grunts.
Shouts.
The unmistakable ring of battle.
Reed's heart surged. His legs moved faster. Shadow wrapped around his calves and thighs like compressed springs, adding propulsion to his stride. With each leap, he covered more ground than a normal man should. The land blurred beneath him. Pain and exhaustion were buried under adrenaline and urgency.
As he crested a shallow rise, the scene came into view—and it stopped him for half a second.
His salamander was fighting.
Not cornered. Not desperate.
Fighting.
It slithered and danced between attackers, its obsidian form flashing with every movement. Its tail cracked through the air like a whip, smacking into targets with explosive force. Sparks flew as metal clanged, and smoke hissed from its mouth. It was buying time, fending off the threat.
But the threat wasn't a beast or some malformed creature.
They were human.
Seven of them.
Reed's eyes narrowed.
They were clad in identical dark gray uniforms—tight-fitting fabric reinforced with dull armored plates. Their helmets were rounded and smooth, with a small, sharp point atop each one, as if designed more for symbolism than protection. Their faces were exposed, showing grim expressions, focused and alert. Not wild. Not panicked.
Trained.
Around their shoulders hung strange rods—long, wooden implements with several mechanical protrusions along the shaft. Too deliberate to be random.
Artifacts?
Weapons?
Soldiers?
But Reed didn't have time to think it through.
One of them raised his rod—quick and practiced—bringing it to his eye like he was lining up a bow. And then—
BANG.
A deafening crack split the air.
Reed flinched—just as he felt it.
A sharp wrench in his mind, like a thread snapping.
His link to the salamander quivered. Then dimmed.
His breath caught.
No scream.
But something had happened.
That weapon… Was that what it could do?
It hurt him. It could kill a summon.
The man who fired didn't pause to marvel or question. He simply adjusted his aim, searching for the next target.
A second soldier reached for his rod. Another was already repositioning. They moved like they had done this before.
Reed's eyes flicked back to the salamander. It was still moving—but slower now, and the glistening sheen of its black scales had dulled in one spot. Damage. Real damage.
A cold fury began to rise.
Reed didn't speak.
He acted.
He surged forward again, shadows blooming at his back like wings of smoke. He used them to leap—launching himself like a missile into the fray. One soldier turned too late. Reed landed with a thud behind him, extending one arm. Shadows coiled and whipped outward, grabbing the man's ankle and yanking hard. The soldier collapsed with a grunt, and Reed delivered a swift kick to the side of his helmet, sending him spinning into the dirt.
Another soldier turned his weapon—raised it—fired.
But this time, Reed was already moving, a trail of misty darkness in his wake. The shot missed, kicking up dust.
Two more moved in, trying to flank him.
Reed didn't let them.
With a wave of his arm, a thick sheet of shadow erupted from the ground, rising like a barricade. The blast from one of the weapons struck it and fizzled against the surface with a dull hiss.
Not indestructible—but enough.
He ducked around the side of the shield, came up behind one of the soldiers, and struck him in the back of the knee with a solid tendril of darkness. The man stumbled forward, and Reed followed up with a slam to his helmet.
The other soldiers regrouped, forming a loose semicircle.
Then he saw her.
Lannis.
She was crouched low behind a jagged rock, her hand glowing faintly, blood running down her arm. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale—but her eyes lit up the second she saw him.
"Reed!" she called out, voice strained.
"I'm here!"
Another shot cracked past him. It missed again—but just barely.
He ducked and moved to cover her.
"We need to move," she muttered, already trying to stand.
"I'll cover you. Can you walk?"
"I've had worse."
Reed gave a nod, then called to the salamander with his will. It responded sluggishly but obeyed, slithering closer and unleashing a short burst of flame to ward off the remaining attackers. The heat wasn't enough to kill—but it was enough to buy a moment.
They ran.
Reed kept his shadow raised behind them, forming a shifting shield as more shots rang out. They zig-zagged between broken mounds of earth and crater lips until the sound of the soldiers faded behind them.
Only when they reached the ridge where Reed had first seen the fight did they finally stop, panting.
Lannis collapsed to one knee, holding her ribs. "They weren't from the school. You saw that, right?"
Reed nodded grimly. "Yeah. They weren't like us."
She looked up at him. "Then who the hell are they?"
Reed didn't answer.
Instead, he looked back over the ridge.
The soldiers were regrouping. One was checking the downed man. Another appeared to be holding up a metal object with a long shiny point going far up—some kind of communicator.
They weren't retreating.
They were calling for backup.