Eight lives remained.
The saving light from the Life-Link Talisman had not even fully faded when Lucien forced himself backward.
He retreated because staying still inside Convergence's reach was the same thing as volunteering to die again.
His boots tore a long trench across the ground. Dust scattered. His lungs dragged in a sharp breath that still did not feel fully his.
His thoughts moved faster than his heartbeat.
The first strike had already taught him enough to be afraid properly.
His instinct did not work.
That was the most dangerous part.
Lucien's danger sense had been honed through too many battles, too many near-deaths, and too many impossible situations to simply "fail."
It had not failed here.
It had been made irrelevant.
Convergence did not radiate hostility. There was no murderous intent to seize on, no bloodlust, and no emotional spike that gave the body permission to panic early.
