Ness grins, and through the flickering green veil he meets it — wide and stupid — before forcing his visor back down. Cedric scrambles up, breath hard against the vanishing dark, searching for some retort when the rumble of stone scrapes in.

Alarm, instead: Pulse in his teeth and Ness between them, an inversion of that first initial brace. The image comes unbidden of a flattened librarian, a bleak fucking bookmark,

But the moment's too near to waste. The construct's arm is. His sword rips for elbow, where the threads of magic bind weakest. It severs, sends a hail of stone pelting toward Ness. Golem reels, and Cedric leaps, scrambling up toward shoulder. The anchor shield bashes for purchase — only bounces off, reverb shocking onto an empty human hand. A muffled cry before he's climbing.

Ness hasn't been forgotten. The creature struggles to both swivel its bulk toward her, and shake the distraction from its back. Cedric knocks loose as it turns, smashes him into the side of a wall; stays on, somehow, as his sword clatters to earth.

She has the dagger, the shield. She has half its attention. He can't finish this alone.