Ronan was the first to move, as usual, throwing caution to the wind. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, boots splashing through what was left of the scalded water. He barely made a sound as he walked, his eerie stillness making him seem like a wraith slipping through the steam.
Vance shot me a glance. "You think he actually needs air?"
I sighed. "If he did, he'd probably find a way to discover it was inefficient and manipulate the air into some easier-to-digest atoms that he could photosynthesize into a source he could effortlessly intake."
Vance snorted but didn't argue.
I rolled my shoulders, still feeling the pressure of those cold, skeletal fingers brushing against my skin. My body ached, not from wounds, but from the sheer exhaustion of keeping myself from drowning and getting torn apart in the same five-minute span.
"You doing alright Nythera?" I took the time to question.
