Glain, leaning heavily on Rafael's shoulder, approached through the haze of smoke. His robes were torn and scorched, his breath shallow yet his old eyes still carried a calm gleam. He looked at Julian, who stood there amid the fading sparks of battle, lightning dim around his arms, his chest rising and falling with exhaustion.
"Is there… nothing left of him?" Glain asked, his voice hoarse.
Julian glanced toward the crater where Leo had been. The ground was still glowing faintly, molten and lifeless. He shook his head slowly. "Nothing," he said quietly.
Glain exhaled, a weary sigh that seemed to carry both relief and sorrow. "I see…"
Julian turned to him, studying the deep wounds still etched along the old druid's body. His aura was weak, barely enough to keep him standing. "Old man," Julian began, "what did you put inside me?"
The question caught Glain off guard. "Inside you?"
