The second bolt aimed where Myrn's heart moved beneath Jiang.
Green light left the silver pane without sound. Rain vanished along its path, split into steam too thin to hide the point coming for the mount's breast.
Sivra's blade still pinned the white fibers against the harness plate.
Lifting it would free Jiang's copied echo to reach her guild mark. Leaving it would give the bolt an open body.
Aylin made the choice smaller.
From inside her coat, Aylin drew the inert vane half and slid its black edge beneath the flat of the mothglass blade. The bitten root held no oil and answered no living pressure. As a wedge, it was still broad enough to trap the white fibers against glass.
Her damaged fingers could not judge how close the blade lay to skin. She kept them on the blunt shaft where her eyes could measure the gap and used her reliable thumb to force the vane down.
"It will slip," Sivra said.
"Then strike before it does."
Sivra lifted her weapon.
