He crossed behind Jorren's shield line, planted one foot on a stable slab, and thrust into the glassmaw's path. The spear did not pierce deeply; the creature's hide turned the blade aside more than he liked. But the impact disrupted its leap, knocking it low enough for Liora to shoot it through the side of its jaw.
The transparent bone cracked.
The glassmaw screamed.
That sound did something to the ash.
It vibrated.
Rohan's teeth clenched as the grey cloud around him shivered, confusing his sense of direction. For one disorienting moment, he saw three versions of the same beast through the drifting particles.
One real.
Two reflections.
He chose wrong.
The glassmaw's claws raked across his side, tearing through ash-cloth and scraping against the compacted layer he had formed over his ribs. Pain flashed, but the claws did not dig deep. He stumbled backward, caught himself on the spear, and forced more ash across the wound before blood could soak the cloth.
