The assassin pointed his palm toward the elf, and the gigantic sphere of blood floating above his head began to churn, as if something alive were twisting inside it. The red surface vibrated with increasing violence.
Reddish crystal thorns began to grow from the sphere, first a few and then many more, expanding at a sickening speed. Each one gleamed with a dark, razor-sharp edge that made it clear they would pierce stone, flesh, or wood without stopping.
Lucian began running, trying to avoid each impact, moving with all the speed his legs and still-aching body allowed. He had no room to hesitate, because every thorn fell as if trying to pin him to the ground.
The elf was fast, and after circling around he managed to close the distance to his enemy, slipping through the smallest gaps between volleys. For a moment it seemed he would reach striking range before that bastard prepared something else.
