One of the Wolfens' heads burst. Not exploded—burst, like a fruit squeezed too hard, flesh and bone and something that might have been blood spraying across the snow. Selene stood behind the collapsing body, her fist still raised, her white hair settling around her shoulders.
The other Wolfens didn't flinch.
"Wow." The one who had kicked Derek around—the one with the too-bright eyes, the half-smile, the hands in his pockets—tilted his head. "You got the weakest of us."
He stepped forward. The others fell back.
"Get back, boys. I'm killing this one."
Fire erupted from his palms—not the solar lava of the real Wolfen, but something close, something hot enough to melt snow on contact, to make the air itself shimmer. He charged.
His palm was inches from Selene's face.
She punched.
He wasn't there.
He had jumped back, landing in a crouch, his eyes scanning her, measuring her, looking for something. Not afraid. Not cautious. Just... calculating.
He bent down. A runner's start. A predator's posture.
He launched himself at her—feet first, aimed at her face, his body a missile wrapped in flame. Selene's fist came up, nearly connected, nearly ended it.
He twisted in mid-air. Landed behind her.
Selene turned. He was already gone.
He appeared in front of her. Smiling.
Her punch grazed his cheek. He was already moving, already somewhere else, already punching her in the back, the ribs, the kidneys—fast, faster than anything that size should be able to move.
She caught his wrist. He twisted free.
He landed on the other side of the clearing, breathing hard, still smiling.
Selene's fist connected with his chest.
He flew upward—high, higher than the trees, higher than the snow clouds. The sky swallowed him.
Selene appeared next to him.
She hit him again.
He fell like a rocket, crashed into the earth, carved a crater that steamed in the cold. Selene landed at the edge of the crater, waiting.
Umbralite erupted from the ground—black, jagged, hungry. It covered her legs, her arms, her torso, her face. She was a statue now, a monument, immovable.
Wolfen appeared in front of her. Punched her chest. Vanished. Appeared behind her. Punched her back. Vanished. Appeared at her side. Punched her ribs. Vanished. He was everywhere and nowhere, a ghost made of fire and spite.
Selene broke the Umbralite.
It shattered like glass, falling away from her body in chunks. She punched where he had been. He stepped aside.
She punched again. He stepped aside.
How? Her mind was racing. The Absolute I fought was stronger than him. Much stronger. Why can't I hit him?
Wolfen raised his hand. A beam—highly dense, concentrated with Pulse and fire—shot toward her face. It caught her cheek, burned the skin, left a mark that healed before the blood could freeze.
She didn't flinch.
"Dominance Sphere."
Ice erupted from her—not the slow creep of frost, but an explosion, a detonation of cold that expanded outward in every direction. The sphere grew and grew, swallowing the trees, the snow, the sky. Fifty miles in every direction.
The Wolfens stumbled back. The one with no face pressed its hands against the sphere's wall and screamed silently. The burning one's flames guttered and died.
The one with the too-bright eyes stood his ground.
"You stupid—" He was shouting now, his calm gone, his smile gone. "Not only would you kill me, but you'd kill your friend. And those innocent people." He pointed at the settlement, at the walls, at the faces pressed against the stone. "Do you think you could live with that? Men, women, children—innocent boys and girls dying without even knowing why? Without knowing if it had a purpose?"
Selene's eye widened.
"You wouldn't be any different from us."
The sphere shattered.
Ice rained down around them, melting before it hit the ground.
Wolfen's arm shot back. A blast—Pulse and fire and something else—shot toward the settlement. Toward the walls. Toward the people.
BOOM.
The explosion was blinding. The sound was deafening.
When the light faded, Derek stood at the edge of the crater. His body was smoking. His clothes were torn. His arms were raised, crossed over his face, his chest heaving.
He had taken the blast. Head on.
Selene turned to look at him. Her guard was down.
Wolfen was in front of her.
His hand was covered in Umbralite, in Pulse, in fire. He punched her—once, clean, square in the chest—and she felt it in her bones, in her blood, in the core of her.
She looked for him.
He was gone. The other Wolfens were gone. The clearing was empty except for the snow, the blood, and Derek, still standing, still breathing, still alive.
Selene stood alone in the crater, her hand pressed to her chest, her breath coming hard.
What was that?
The snow fell. The fires died. The settlement was quiet.
Derek collapsed.