It was that bastard of an elf.
It was Emrys.
Lugh cocked his rifle, his animosity seething from beneath his helmet.
"You dare gaze at me with hatred in your eyes?"
Sensing his malice, the elf raised a hand, but before he could do anything, a bullet zipped through the air. A magical shield flickered into existence, and the projectile was deflected.
Lugh stared at the smoking barrel of his rifle, his face betraying no shock. He simply rechambered his bullet, and lined up another shot.
Before he could fire, the entire floor lit up in an ominous blood-red glow. Looking down, Lugh saw strange, incomprehensible symbols and shapes stretching almost as far as the eye could see.
It was a magical circle, an enormous one at that, spanning dozens of kilometers.
They had walked straight into a trap of colossal proportions.
The coughing began. Not from Lugh, but from the resistance fighters still in the vicinity. Some collapsed, writhing against an unseen force invading their bodies.
