The knights bowed their heads, shame written across their weary faces, yet also relief—relief that the prince had survived, relief that they had not been abandoned.
Fenric turned his gaze to Aria, who lay upon a stretcher conjured by glowing runes. He pressed his hand lightly against her chest, summoning forth the Mystic Moon Rapier—his Silver Moon Flames, born of Lunaris pact blooming. The radiant silver-blue light cascaded over her wounds, knitting torn flesh, cleansing the taint, and pushing back the creeping corruption left by Laxin's Death aura.
Aria's breathing steadied, her lashes fluttering once before sleep claimed her. Fenric lingered at her side, shoulders heavy, his hand still faintly glowing from the last remnants of his Mystic Moon Rapier's healing light.
But then a sharp jolt of pain lanced through his ribs, making him wince. He pressed a hand against his side, the blood seeping through his fingers stubbornly. His expression darkened.
