Mana surged harder this time—sharper, deeper, like needles stabbing into his bones and twisting. Pain lanced up his arms, his small chest heaving as the rifle drank more of him. The runes along the barrel flared blinding white, the air around the muzzle frosting over instantly, tiny ice crystals forming and falling like snow.
The rifle sang—louder, angrier, a resonant chime that vibrated through Nova's teeth.
Another blinding streak of starlight erupted from the barrel—longer this time, brighter, colder.
It streaked across the room in a frozen comet trail, cutting the smoky air with a hiss.
The woman—already halfway through the doorway—jerked her head to the side at the last possible instant.
She whispered, "So fast…"
The shot grazed her neck.
