I moved. A grey blur over the silver, cratered dust, accelerating smoothly in a way that wouldn't have been possible a week ago. At Divine rank, crossing kilometres in low gravity and vacuum felt like crossing a room. Above and around me, high in the star-dusted black, the battle was already breaking out in silent chaos.
Earth's counter-invasion—ships, mages, war-frames—poured out of the huge seams I'd torn and slammed into the swarming armada of weeping bio-mechanical hulls. Flashes lit the dark: lance-fire, spell detonations, the bursting of lesser ships. A silent, desperate fireworks display over the fragile blue planet hanging in the sky.
My eight had already engaged, moving as a single, frighteningly coordinated unit. Lucifer, a comet of light and shadow, and Ren, a ghost of impossibly calm motion, drove at the enemy's command structure. The six followed in tight formation, weaving a net of combined power built to take things apart, not merely beat them.
