Jagged lines of energy cut through the oppressive darkness, the vivid yellows from Dana's pistol contrasting with the angry red flames lighting up the night. The fire shows impressive resilience even in this downpour, rising high in unnatural defiance of wind and water. From somewhere inside the building come the cracks and crashes of some unknown battle still raging inside.

The girl in the window remains in place, her arm tightening just a few inches to put the Norban briefly in the blue-tinted sights of her rifle. She takes a breath and pulls the trigger.

There's a crack, but no impact follows. Radiant Storm's ray of sunshine, while she charges toward her fallen comrades, might be forgiven for thing the sniper had missed her shot from the covering spray of energy.

She did not. 

Those that hesitated can see the pale white bullet–a perfect sphere, like a musket shot–come to a jarring halt mid-air about five feet behind and above the dark-haired witch. 

The girl in the window grits her teeth as a spear of auric power cuts across her cheek. She shoots again.

The second bullet hits the first, one crack followed by another as the projectile ricochets off its partner and straight toward Dana's back.