The image of Lykas, impaled and tossed aside, fused in Austin's mind with the memory of the smoking ruins of Ashworth.
This thing—or others like it—had brought the meteor, had taken his mother, his father, and Ava.
A white-hot wave of fury and pure hatred surged through his veins, extinguishing the last remnants of his fear.
He wasn't just watching a fight anymore; he was witnessing an extension of his own catastrophe. He had to act.
He broke cover, darting past the startled elders, and grabbed the nearest warrior—it happened to be Balvan, who was momentarily retreating to catch his breath.
"Balvan! The legs aren't enough! It won't die!" Austin hissed, pulling him low toward a patch of shadow. "The heart! We have to hit the Shadowheart directly!"
Balvan's eyes, still wild from the fight, snapped to Austin's face, surprised by the boy's sudden, cold clarity. "We know, but it's too guarded! Varek can't get the angle!"
