She raised the hammer high. The sky, already dark with the red haze of Deathrock's corruption, grew darker still. Storm clouds materialized from nothing, black and heavy and shot through with veins of lightning.
They gathered above the Head in a churning vortex, and at their center, a single point of blue-white brilliance began to form.
The Demon Head looked up and its mismatched eyes widened.
The lightning pillar descended, focused directly on him. A needle of electrical fury no wider than a spear, but carrying enough energy to turn a mountain to glass.
It struck Braavas square in the chest, and the Demon Head screamed. The sound was swallowed by the thunder. Its body convulsed, every muscle locking, every nerve firing simultaneously. The coral growths on its shoulder cracked and split. Smoke rose from its hide in thick, acrid columns.
But he did not fall.
