"That's not a good sign," Robert muttered, eyes narrowed as he cradled Auren in his arms. Sweat trickled down his temple, mixing with the fine ash already coating his skin. The air around them was thick with the stench of smoke and magic gone wild. "Looks like they've got their own chaos to deal with... probably thanks to those two oversized monsters going at it."
Then, something shifted—subtle, but enough. Auren's lips moved.
Robert felt it immediately.
"Hey—what is it, kid?" he asked, his voice gentler now. He leaned in close, trying to catch whatever words the boy might be clinging to.
"M-more..." Auren whispered, his voice dry and fragile, like the last breath of a dying flame.
That single word was all Robert needed.
He glanced down at the empty vial still clutched in his hand—the last of their healing stock. His expression hardened, jaw clenched with quiet resolve.
