The arena was quiet, save for the crackle of broken wards and the faint hiss of molten stone cooling in the trenches. Noel knelt at Nicolas's side, Revenant Fang resting limp in his grip, his other hand hovering helplessly over the Archmage's still body.
A shadow fell across him. Selene stepped forward, her boots crunching against the fractured floor. She stopped a few feet away, her cyan eyes fixed on Nicolas's chest.
Her face—always composed, always cold—had changed.
Her lips parted slightly, breath uneven. For the first time since Noel had known her, she looked afraid, like the time she stood up to his mother.
The gaping wound in Nicolas's torso seemed to drain the strength from her own frame. His heart still beat faintly, but where his mana core should have glowed there was only emptiness, shattered fragments clinging to ruined flesh.
