The battlefield held its breath.
Everything had gone still.
Smoke drifted over broken ground. It curled like ghosts over the bodies of the fallen.
Rain fell heavy and relentless. Soaking through armor, skin, and bone.
The sky above churned with dark clouds. It trembled as if afraid of what was about to happen next.
Rodrick stood alone.
His face was smeared with blood, his own and others'.
His body barely held itself together. Shoulders slumped. Breathing ragged. Bones cracked with every twitch.
Yet he grinned, lips trembling.
"You can't hold it forever, can you?" he rasped, voice torn and raw. "That power... it's killing you."
He forced himself upright. His body wobbling like a broken scarecrow in a storm.
Across the field. Kyle didn't answer.
He couldn't.
The storm inside him was too loud.
Lightning curled around his fingers like living snakes.
