While the world burned under the chaos of rampaging beasts, Auren remained half-conscious as Robert carried him swiftly through the eastern edge of Runewood, heading toward what used to be their safe haven.
"Hold on, kid... we're almost there..." Robert muttered, his voice strained but determined. His legs pounded the dirt path, eyes glowing with alertness as he weaved through the forest trails, ready to dodge stray fireballs or the deadly tremors caused by battling titans in the distance.
But deep inside Auren's mind, things were even worse.
The once-vibrant glowing lake in his mental space—his sanctuary—was now bone-dry, cracked like a scorched riverbed in the heart of summer. In the middle of that desolate space sat his mental form, pale and gaunt, as if every ounce of moisture had been drained from him. His hands, usually steady and full of life, were blackened and charred like burnt coal.
And Bigbird was nowhere to be found.
