Leva tilted her head, her beautiful, now-untainted eyes fixed on Eirin with a look of deep concern. "You've grown pale, dear child. You have given too much of yourself." Her feather, now soft and clean, gently grazed Eirin's cheek, a touch of maternal comfort. "I cannot thank you enough, and I haven't even learned of your name yet. We have gone through a journey together, and I have not even known the name of my savior."
Eirin smiled, a tired, weary gesture. "My name is—" she couldn't continue talking, her voice dying in her throat, her body a sudden, hollow shell of exhaustion. She could feel herself losing consciousness, herself losing consciousness, her mind a dizzying blur of pain and cold.
"Child?" Leva's voice was filled with panicked urgency. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"
