Before Grey could even begin figuring out how the hell he was supposed to deal with the hive mind trying to swallow all of them whole, something whipped past him.
Xerchen.
Grey's head turned, and for the briefest instant their gazes met. There was a deathly cold sitting behind Xerchen's eyes, but what caught Grey's attention more was the color of his irises, or rather the lack of one. Instead of the defined rings and lines one would normally expect, there was only an endless fog of grey swirling within them, thick enough that Grey almost expected bolts of lightning to crack through at any moment.
Then that moment was gone.
Xerchen flashed forward.
