Lucy tore the puppet's arm off at the shoulder joint, wrenched hard, and hurled the rest of it clear across the field. It hit the scorched ground forty meters off and didn't get up again.
She turned in time to see One closing on Lucas, still on his knees where the last strike had put him, unhurried, that same casual finality carried in every step.
He never saw her coming.
She hit him full force from the side, lightning wrapped tight around both fists, catching him square in the ribs before he'd registered her at all, and the impact didn't just knock him sideways. It sent him.
He tore across the sky in a straight, screaming line, a full mile out before he finally crashed down somewhere past the ridge, the distant boom of the impact rolling back across the scorched field a full second after the sight of it.
Lucy stood there a moment, breathing hard, staring at where he'd gone.
Then she dropped down beside Lucas.
"Hey. Hey, look at me, what happened, what did he do to you."
