The battlefield was eerily quiet as the dust settled around Lysander's crumpled form. Marinetta stood frozen, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't believe it—Lysander was down. But was he truly defeated?
Aislinn staggered beside her, her face pale and her hands trembling from the sheer effort of channeling so much power. "Did… did we get him?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Marinetta's eyes never left Lysander. His body was still, but she knew better than to let her guard down. "Stay back," she warned, her voice hoarse but commanding. "We need to make sure."
