Chapter 39: The Boy in the Walls
Ren moved.
In a blur of tiny scales and silent wings, he shot from her pocket, soaring at the cultist holding her. He did not bite or claw — not with the kind of force that drew blood.
Instead, he unfurled his magic, thin and silvery, wrapping it around Hannah and her captor both.
Camouflage. Not invisibility, but distortion: blurring edges, smudging outlines, so the man's eyes could not lock onto her, could not hold what he thought he held.
The cultist grunted, confused. His grip slackened.
"What—?"
Hannah drove her elbow into his ribs and twisted free.
Ren darted to the second man, flooding his vision with shadow and haze. The cultist swung wildly, striking only air.
"Back!" Bart barked, his sword a short, sharp arc that forced both dazed men toward the window.
Mimi kicked one's legs out from under him, and the cultist stumbled.
Then one of the cultists lifted his head, eyes glinting with fanatical hunger.
