It was dry.
A place that felt like the inside of a ribcage... protective.
Kaavi stopped near the centre, where the stone dipped gently and four arches branched away into darkness.
Gavril lowered himself onto the stone lip with a grunt, axes resting against his knee. The movement sent a hot flare through his ribs. He locked his jaw and breathed through it.
'That hurts more than I'd like.' he muttered under his breath.
Liran glanced up. "Talking to yourself again?"
"Only when sensible people aren't around," Gavril replied. "And don't worry I'm fine."
"You're breathing like a bellows with a hole in it," Liran said flatly.
"You're lucky nothing's punctured."
"Lucky's doing a lot of work today," Gavril said.
Liran applied salve, fingers firm and practiced. The heat burned, then dulled.
Nearby, Viktor sat with his back to the stone, knees drawn close. He watched everything... Liran's hands, Gavril's face, Kaavi's stillness... with quiet intensity. Every so often, his eyes flicked to Kaavi like a tether checking its anchor.
Kaavi was still standing.
He stood near one of the pillars, listening.
Above them, the city breathed…muted thumps, distant collapses, the low, constant sound of something inhumane carried through layers of stone.
When he finally sat, it was slow and deliberate. Sword laid across his lap. Spine straight. Hands resting lightly against his knees.
He closed his eyes.
The world narrowed.
Breath slowed until it barely existed. The ache in his joints receded to a distant pressure. He did not reach outward recklessly... he let his awareness rise, gentle and controlled.
The raven answered.
For a moment, Kaavi stood above the city in borrowed sight.
Whitehold sprawled beneath a shroud of snow and smoke. Fire burned in lines along the southern quarter, wild, broken. Men still held formation. Shields still locked.
Baron Edric stood.
Battered. Bleeding. But standing.
Kaavi followed the line of pressure outward... saw where the puppets thickened, where they shifted with unnatural coordination. He noted it, filed it away.
Enough.
He severed the connection before strain could take more than it was owed. A dull ache bloomed behind his eyes, warm and contained.
When he opened them…
A gentle pressure was in the air, like a forge door left ajar.
Kaavi opened his eyes.
He rose
At the same moment, Gavril stirred, grunting as he shifted against the stone lip of the basin.
"Still hate winter, I have to leave this country and move to somewhere warmer," he muttered. "This place was warm but now it feels like winter crawled back in the moment she left."
Liran snorted softly while tightening a strap around Gavril's ribs. "That's because you got used to not freezing to death for five whole minutes."
"I'm serious," Gavril said, squinting down the tunnel. "Air was warmer with her around. Like standing near a hearth, you didn't know you needed."
Liran tied the knot and leaned back. "Careful. You're starting to sound poetic."
Gavril grimaced. "Don't insult me."
Before Liran could reply, Viktor straightened.
He had been quiet for a long time, sitting close to Kaavi, fingers curled into the hem of his cloak. Now his head tilted slightly, listening.
"Someone's coming," he said.
Kaavi felt it too.
Footsteps...uneven, heavier on one side. A second rhythm beneath them, steady and deliberate.
"Asha," Kaavi said.
The others rose at once.
She emerged from the tunnel with fire dimmed to embers, one arm braced beneath Joren's good shoulder. His boots dragged slightly, leaving faint marks in the damp stone.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Then Gavril exhaled hard. "By the gods. You stubborn bastard, you are alive."
Joren tried to smile and failed. "Miss me?"
Liran was already moving, catching Joren's other side before his knees buckled completely. "You look like shit," he said, voice rough with relief.
"I've had worse mornings," Joren replied. "Not many though."
Asha guided him down carefully, easing him onto the stone beside the basin.
"Sit," she said, firm but not unkind.
Joren obeyed without protest.
Only then did the others truly see the damage.
The broken arm, bound loosely. Blood darkening his side, slowed but not stopped. Burns along the edges of older wounds...clean, deliberate.
"He insisted on making it difficult, trying to walk on his own."
Joren exhaled through clenched teeth, with a faint smile. "Had a reputation to maintain."
Asha knelt at once, eyes scanning wounds.
"This will hurt," she said.
Joren let out a breath that might have been a laugh. "Why?"
Fire bloomed on her fingertips…tight, disciplined, no brighter than a candle's light.
She passed it close to the stab wound in his side.
The smell hit first. Iron. Burned cloth. Flesh.
Joren's body jerked, teeth grinding hard enough to echo. Viktor stiffened but did not look away.
The flame sealed torn flesh with brutal precision. Blood stopped flowing.
Asha moved to the next wound, then another, working without hesitation.
When she finished, the fire vanished.
"That's all I can do," she said, wiping her hand on her cloak. "Bleeding stopped, but major injuries still needs to be looked by someone who knows what they are doing."
Gavril frowned. "Didn't think fire mages could do this."
"Fire is not just a weapon," he said. His voice was calm, "Just like we use fire for cooking, or use it as a weapon to burn houses, people. same concept applies to fire magic, depends on the user. If they wants to save lives or destroy everything in its path like a wildfire."
His gaze shifted to Gavril.
"Most fire mages are taught only destruction. That path is easier. Faster. But a few are taught control first...restraint. They learn how close flame can come to flesh without killing it."
"It is very rare for a fire mage to become a healer" Kaavi finished.
Asha met his eyes, something like recognition passing between them.
"I just stopped the bleeding," she said then, more plainly. "Took the edge off the pain so his body doesn't give up before a healer sees him." She flexed her fingers once. "That's all."
Liran was already working, binding the arm properly with splints of wood and cloth, adjusting carefully until Joren's breathing steadied.
"Amber Tower sends healers on commission," Asha continued. "But none were available. You got a combat mage instead."
Gavril chuckled, then winced. "Worth it."
Viktor edged closer, eyes fixed on Joren. "Does it hurt?" he asked.
Joren looked down at him, then shrugged carefully. "Not much, just enough that I know I'm alive."
"That's a terrible answer," Viktor said.
Joren smiled faintly. "It's an honest one."
Asha straightened and looked to Kaavi. "The courtyard's clear. What was left won't be walking again."
"How long?" Kaavi asked.
"Eight minutes," she replied. "Ten at most."
Gavril shook his head slowly. "I never trusted mages…. but I'm revising that," he said. "But I'm reconsidering."
Asha allowed herself a small smile. "Good."
Kaavi looked around the chamber...at his people, wounded, tired.
"We rest," he said. "Then we move for the Baron."
Joren closed his eyes briefly. "Glad I am still alive."
Above them, unseen, the city continued to burn.
Below it, in old stone and quiet shadow, the spark remained.