When they're far from the city—past the reach of spells, screams, and smoke—the wind grows quiet.
Ruva slows, holding Sorin carefully in her arms. Around, the charred earth gives way to untamed forest. The air is cooler here, untouched by battle.
Then—
A ripple.
A sharp shift in pressure.
A figure descends from above in a blur of motion and golden light.
He lands silently on a jagged rock outcropping just ahead of them, arms folded, expression unreadable beneath windswept silver hair and eyes like steel.
Astram.
His presence alone silences the wind.
Tier 6.
A general.
A monster among monsters.
Ruva go beside him, kneeling to let Sorin rest against a boulder. Her breathing is shallow, but she's awake—barely.
Astram steps forward, cloak brushing the ground. His gaze settles on Sorin, eyes narrowing slightly. "I guess," he says, "I'm late."
Sorin forces her eyes open. She winces, then gives a faint nod.
"General Astram."
Astram offers a faint tilt of the head in return.
