People began to peel out of the light one after another, drawn up through the cloud, like source where the glow thickened.
The moment they touched it, the pull changed.
What had been slow became sudden. Bodies shot forward, faster than any fall, carried toward the arena like stones flung from a sling.
They landed on the arena floor in scattered bursts. Sackmace came first, then Lonequiver, then Reelfisher.
Their boots struck stone and skidded. They tried to close ranks, to speak, to read each other's faces.
Reelfisher stepped toward Sackmace and met an invisible barrier. His cheek hit it with a dull smack.
He blinked confused, and pressed a palm to nothing.
More survivors arrived, one by one, blinking at the stone under their feet, at the space between them that would not yield.
Above, a timer kept counting down, steady and indifferent.
Those who did not make it out in time were eaten by the earth. Their screams flared and then cut off.
