It took a gasping moment before Solomon could recover his spinning head, before he could twist and run for the door again. This time, Sanguine's presence only half inside the floor made its presence ripple almost violently outward, an intrusion in the wards they couldn't stop.

Even when he pulled completely into the stone, he wasn't trying to hide, and his movement left ripples of their own, rebounding and crashing on each other. Solomon couldn't avoid the hand gripping his ankle; he let himself fall, forced himself to relax so the blow didn't stun him.

It was instinct, or something like it. Necromancy required a channelling object. This--this was almost like touching a live wire of magic. He didn't need a conduit. He just needed intent and imagination. Solomon spread his palms outward, slamming into the floor on his forearms and absorbing the energy with gritted teeth. He fisted those ripples Sanguine had left and rolled, kicking out at the hand even has he yanked those lifestreamers, twisting them in a manner they hadn't been twisted before.

He wasn't sure what it would do.

He didn't particularly care, so long as it disrupted Sanguine's magic long enough for him to escape.