The air inside the Lalbaug mill was so cold that Vikram's fingers began to lose their sensation. Frost coated the iron beams, and the hum of the third transmitter was a deafening vibration that rattled his teeth.
He dropped down from the ceiling rafters onto the concrete floor.
Before he could reach the machine, a shadow on the far wall detached itself. It grew taller, solidifying into a broad-shouldered figure.
Javed Khan.
"You are predictable, Vikram," Javed said, his scarred face twisted in a cold smile. "Just like your father."
"You betrayed him, Javed," Vikram spat, his Prana rising, blue sparks dancing on his knuckles.
"I chose the winning side," Javed replied. He raised his hand. A massive blade of solid shadow materialized in his grip, the air around it warping from the intense dark photon concentration.
Vikram lunged, throwing a fast left hook. Javed deflected it easily with the flat of his blade, the impact sending a freezing shockwave through Vikram's arm.
Vikram spun, throwing a right cross, but Javed was faster. The enforcer drove his elbow into Vikram's chest, throwing him back against a metal rack.
Vikram coughed, struggling to breathe. The cold from the impact was spreading through his ribs.
"You are not ready for a Wraith, boy," Javed said, stepping closer, his shadow blade raised. "You are just a child playing with fire."
Vikram focused his remaining Prana, folding the shadow to slip through the floorboards just as the blade came down, shattering the concrete where he had stood.