The air was heavy with the smell of scorched earth and burnt mana. Smoke curled lazily from cracks in the canyon floor where the Anemosidon's massive body had fallen.
"We should move,"
Cedric said firmly, his voice steady but his shoulders taut. His sword arm trembled slightly from exhaustion.
"There's no point staying here. Let's find somewhere safe before—"
Kyle leaned against Eleanora, every step unsteady. Her arm was hooked firmly under his, supporting more of his weight than he wanted to admit.
Spirit mana still pulsed like fire in his veins, every muscle stiff, every breath ragged. He tried to straighten, to look less broken than he felt, but his knees wobbled again.
"I'm fine," Kyle muttered.
"You're not."
Eleanora replied without looking at him. Her pale face glistened with sweat, blonde strands of hair sticking to her cheek.
She was drained too, but her grip on him didn't waver.
Cassian nodded at Cedric's words.
"Safe place first. Rest later."
