Ryan ran through the chaotic heart of the battle, his mind a whirlwind of focus and fear. The air was filled with the shriek of tearing tal, the boom of plasma explosions, and the guttural war cries of the Marauders.
A stray energy bolt sizzled past his head, so close he could sll his hair burning. He didn’t even flinch. His eyes were locked on a single point in the center of the besieged Enclave: the faint, flickering light of the Genesis Seed.
He skidded to a stop in front of the ornate pedestal, his friends and the last of the Precursors forming a desperate, living wall between him and the chaos.
Scarlett, having left the "Odyssey" on autopilot, was now fighting on the ground, a phantom of deadly grace with her twin pistols. Chris would have been proud of Emma and Zara; they had found a pair of Precursor energy rifles and were firing thodical, precise shots from behind cover, their faces grim with determination.
And Lyra, the First Weaver, turned her ancient, starlit eyes to him. Her form was now so faint he could almost see through her. The effort of bolstering the shields was consuming the last of her energy.
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