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Rhea's heat-line kissed its ankle as it stomped forward, and Ray's tight, mean flame wrote a small concentrate of sun under its chin. John let the void kiss its wrist and the hand that had meant to be a hammer became something lighter that belonged to no one. The ape died with its mouth full of spite.
[System Notification: Frenzy Counter — 19/50]
The wave faltered and then remembered the little gray jar had convinced it not to. Twenty more bodies tore through brush, eyes wide, mouths open for a song their throats could not sing. John adjusted the ball's spin, a tiny twist of wrist that set the event horizon into a slow, dignified rotation, and then he stepped forward.
He named the step in his head because sometimes you have to tell yourself what you are. Gravestep: heel, toe, gravity agrees. The void rolled with him, a planetoid's shadow married to a boy's palm, and the next three beasts that thought they were faster than geometry discovered that black curves can be cruel.
