Night was becoming irritated. She sent envoys to people that should be helping right now, if they really cared. One of them, a raven, returned immediately, wounded by a mordite claw. The other, coincidentally a dove, did not return at all.
She swept out a hand, gathering the radiation in the area into spears of light, sending them at Charnyx with a flick of her wrist. “Your service to a being confines you,” she said. “Have you no ideals?”