Lower.

"Got it!" Emporio shouts, too strained and weak to remember he need only think it. "Jolyne-!"

Presumably she heard as well. The boy dives- down across the body, an arrow of wind and night winter storm streaking down. What strings need to be discarded are cut by ice and water that has been threading along them, allowing Jolyne to focus on landing new anchors as they focus on the central target.

And speaking of such targets-

The boy swallows when he sees Zagreus along the flight path.

"If...if we need to," he rasps, his throat growing dry between the heat of summer and the rapid push of 'winter cold' to protect against it, "We'll pull him out when we have to run,"

This is it after all. Make or break. Strings of night ice strung across the middle.