I personally shot the thing with mana-charged bullets so strong they'd pierce a wyvern's hide—the troll blinked at me.
Then Viking went full psycho-berserker-rune-warrior mode, roaring, blasting symbols the size of houses—Nothing. Nothing except the creeping realization that we were absolutely, unmistakably screwed.
And then Raya swooped down, grabbed Lady Seraphine like a sack of flour, and LAUNCHED into the sky.
My heart nearly left my body. "NO—NO—NO—RAYA! BRING HER BACK!" I roared, sprinting uselessly across snow that shook with every troll step.
Viking screamed too. Henry. Joff. Half the Ice People warriors. Even Coffi and Latte.
Everyone was screaming. Because Lady Seraphine—our chaotic, loud, reckless, unpredictable Lady Seraphine—now dangling off a wyvern, shrieking her lungs out while flying straight toward a creature that could swat her like a bug.
