In the chill night wind, Raynor Selwyn held Eleanor tightly in his arms. Strands of his golden hair fell against her cheek, carrying a warmth that seemed to anchor her to this world. As he channeled his energy into her body, his voice was low, gentle, and filled with worry.
"Elena… don't be afraid. I'm here."
Eleanor lay limply against the crook of his arm, feeling a soothing warmth spread through her chest as strength slowly returned to her limbs. She murmured faintly, her voice laced with exasperation:
"Let go… you're really going to suffocate me…"
Raynor froze for a heartbeat, suddenly realizing how tightly he'd been holding her. He loosened his grip at once, guilt and tenderness flooding his gaze.
But to Eleanor, that gaze was almost terrifying. There was too much emotion in it—too deep, too consuming—as if it might drown her if she stared into it too long.
"Elena, how did this happen?" His voice quivered, his fingers gently brushing through her hair. "Who did this? Tell me—who dared try to take your life?"
Eleanor turned her face away, unable to meet his eyes. "I… I don't know."
But in truth, she knew all too well. She was nothing more than a sacrifice at the altar of fate.
The red sigil on Raynor's brow pulsed faintly, casting a subtle glow. His gaze sharpened, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "You've always had a steadfast heart… You wouldn't forget something like this. Were your injuries truly that grave?"
Eleanor sighed inwardly and simply closed her eyes. "I'm tired."
Seeing the weariness in her expression, Raynor could only let out a helpless sigh. He gathered her gently in his arms and sped toward the Arcane Academy.
In the night's embrace, the Academy's main peak loomed high, piercing the clouds like a throne of the gods. At its summit, a massive crystal floated in the air, casting a pale glow that bathed the world below in silver light, turning the darkness to day.