The sky didn't turn dark. It turned a searing, lethal gold.
Will didn't need to look up. His [Predator's Instinct] screamed, driving a spike of phantom pain into the base of his skull. The screech that followed wasn't organic. It sounded like a thousand old-world freight trains grinding their brakes to dust at once.
[Warning: Incoming Solar Plumage Bombardment]
The core, Will thought, his pulse steadying despite the heat. That's the spark for the Forge.
Scatter! Will ordered through the network. Move! Now!
The canopy above them detonated.
The Level 75+ Solar Avian-Elemental shed hundreds of metallic feathers. They weren't just hot. They were forged from hyper-dense, ambient solar radiation. They rained down like a carpet bombing of white-hot artillery shells.
