By the time the brothers realized it, it was too late.
Their enemy stood behind them now.
But Daron, who was the eldest and the strongest among the trio, managed to react. His instincts moved faster than thought. In one seamless motion, he twisted his body and drove his spear backward.
The blade punched clean through flesh and bone.
Straight through their enemy's chest.
There was no armor to stop it.
Only skin, ribs, and the dull crunch of something vital giving way.
The shaft quivered in Daron's grip as he felt it strike true.
But he didn't get to savor it.
Because in that very same instant, Quinlan's hand came alive.
Wind exploded around his fist and forearm, becoming a vortex of cutting force, howling loudly with compressed violence. It wasn't just wind anymore, but a motion weaponized. A drill of air and magic, spinning fast enough to bend light around it.
And it drove straight toward the back of Veyne's neck.
At that precise moment…
