The Covenant soldiers stopped moving.
All of them, at once, turned to look at what was left of Soltice. A boot standing upright with nothing above the ankle. The black tattoo that used to sit on his forehead was gone with the rest of his face.
Harren was down the corridor. Same condition.
Two commanders. Dead in under a minute.
A soldier near the back, young, hadn't drawn his blade yet, looked at the golden-haired shape climbing out of the rubble and felt his legs stop listening to him.
That's not a second-year.
Another one grabbed his arm. "Move. MOVE."
"That's not possible. Nobody does that to Soltice—"
"I don't care what he is, we need to LEAVE—"
Vines came up out of the floor before either of them decided anything. Two soldiers went down wrapped to the throat, screaming, and a third turned to run and made it four steps before Cael's bellus dropped onto his back and put him face-first into the stone.
