Fire erupted.
It wasn't elegant flame.
It was raw, convulsive heat bursting from muscle and nerve—
a detonation of red-gold that turned the remaining fluid around him to a cloud of vicious steam.
Damian slammed both fists into the living wall.
The flesh resisted—stretching, shuddering—
then tore open in a violent spray.
Heat blasted outward.
Steam roared.
"Marcus—now!" Caleb screamed.
Marcus launched himself forward, using the last scraps of ice to slide across the shrinking path, Neol clutched to his chest. Ethan grabbed Caleb and pushed off after him as the ice dissolved under their boots.
Damian held the wound open with one arm.
Fire burned the edges.
Flesh curled and blackened.
The hole widened—just enough.
Marcus dove through first.
Ethan shoved Caleb after him.
Caleb's boots skidded on wet tissue as he crashed into the tunnel beyond.
Damian followed last.
The moment he passed through, the wound snapped shut with a violent, wet slam.