I can stop them, Martin thought, echoing the words in his head. It all rang hollow, left him no more the encouraged, but a little less wild-eyed and shaken. It is my purpose.

He gave up one of his arms in the struggle, letting it be pulled backward to the mass of shapes. As his expression darkened and jaw set, he bent himself forward and conjured once again, skewering a row of bodies in its path and freeing himself. He staggered steps and planted his other hand on the ground to stop from ploughing right into Chloe, hunching his shoulders and ducking his head down.

That was the part where the black was supposed to come, that he was supposed to force out. He knew that, but nothing came, not even a ripple of nausea.

And that was actually more exhilarating than nerve-wracking.

He lifted his head, looking up at Chloe.

"We...need to go."