Kaelith's hand trembled as he caught Caelum's collapsing body, blood slick and warm against his palms.
"Hold on, Caelum. Please, stay with me," he whispered, voice cracking under the weight of panic.
"This can't be happening," he muttered, dropping to his knees. His eyes darted around the battlefield. "Guards! Mages! Anyone!"
Heavy footsteps thundered closer. Two soldiers rushed over, followed by a mage who paused a few steps back, his hands glowing with soft, blue light.
"Your Highness," the mage said with a respectful bow, "please step aside. I'll do what I can."
The mage knelt beside Caelum, pressing glowing hands over the gaping wound.
The atmosphere crackled with tension as magic surged through the prince's veins.
Minutes passed. Nothing happened. The wound refused to close.
Finally, the mage withdrew, solemn. "Prince Caelum's wound is too deep. Magic alone can't heal this. And there's poison in his system... I fear he may not make it."
Kaelith's heart sank.
