He cast another defensive spell on Eli, a shimmering shield of azure light that wrapped the Eli like a cocoon, anchoring her to the rocky outcrop below. Her eyes were wide, brimming with questions and terror, but Merlin only gave her a tired smile—one that tried to be reassuring and failed. "Stay here… Eli," Merlin said, his voice low, gravelly with exhaustion, but firm—a command carved from decades of discipline.
The wind howled around them, ripping through the shattered mountainside like a living thing. Merlin's boots left the ground, mana coiling around him like a serpent, lifting him higher, above and beyond, toward the heart of the storm. Toward her.
Toward Aurora.
The very air grew heavier the closer he came. Mana thickened like blood in water. His limbs trembled, not from weakness but from memory. A storm was raging around him, but another one raged inside—older, quieter, more dangerous.
