Teclos stood in the ruined forest, breathing heavily through clenched teeth as the two halves of the wyvern lay across the frozen ground.
Half of his body was still sealed in ice, and he was not feeling particularly well himself. His lungs burned, his blood burned, and one side of his body felt like it had been carved out.
Still, he was doing slightly better than the dead wyvern, so he could not complain too much.
He could not move his frozen half at all, which forced him to walk like a penguin. It felt a little silly, but since no one was around to see it, he decided that it did not matter.
Something minor like this could not kill him anymore, but that did not mean it felt pleasant.
He slowly made his way toward the wyvern to replenish at least some of his strength and seal its heart before too much power dissipated.
He spat blood into the snow and forced himself forward.
