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... eil erupted from her Ikona, a chilling mist rolling out fast. It swallowed the pit, turning the gravel slick with ice, the torches dimming to faint blue glows. Ravel’s vertebrae clacked louder, spinning wild in the haze.

"Think this’ll stop me?" Ravel shouted, his voice hoarse through the mist.

He thrust a fist forward, Spinebite unleashing a storm of bones. Five vertebrae shot out, slicing through the fog—jagged, fast, aiming for Elara’s chest and throa ...

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