Zoe POV

Vark screams.

The silver does what silver does — I can see it happening from where I'm standing, the wound around the blade erupting in something that isn't quite fire and isn't quite smoke, sparks of heat visible in the air above the puncture, blood turning dark where the metal has touched it. It is, by every measure, working.

He doesn't fall.

He plants his feet. All four of them, pressing down into the earth like he's anchoring himself to it, and something ...