Even Terya was starting to look uneasy, but she maintained her bravado for Leon.
Zara marched ahead, her massive axe thudding against her back, her silver hair tied in a rough tail, her shoulders trembling beneath the strain.
She staggered, one hand bracing against a tree, its red veins pulsing under her touch, and her knees buckled, her breath hitching.
The curse marks along her thigh and hip flared—glowing a molten red through torn cloth and sweat-slicked bandages, brighter than before, spiraling like living flames.
Leon rushed to her side without thinking, his pack sliding slightly. "Zara—"
"I'm fine," she snapped, her voice tight with pain, her blue eyes sharp but strained. "Just keep going."
She wasn't fine.
She was burning up.
Leon dropped beside her, his hand hesitating above the seared flesh of her leg.
"I'm going to try again. Hold still," he said, his voice steady despite the unease in his gut.
