The collapse hit me like a freight train made of lightning.
One moment I was standing in the Silver Creek war room, processing Viktor Kane's declaration of supernatural genocide while my newly assembled team planned our next move. The next, my knees buckled and the world tilted sideways into a kaleidoscope of spinning colors and sounds that felt like they were coming from underwater.
"Aria!" Someone's voice—Kai's voice—cut through the chaos, but it sounded like he was shouting from the other end of a tunnel.
My vision went white, then black, then white again. The silver light that had been my constant companion for weeks sputtered and died like a candle in a hurricane. Every nerve ending in my body suddenly felt like it was on fire, then numb, then on fire again.
The last thing I remember was hitting the hardwood floor and thinking, somewhat stupidly, that it was probably going to leave a bruise.
