The air carried the mingled scents of iron, sweat, and poultices, a heavy blanket over the groans of the injured.
Teachers who knew a little healing magic moved constantly between patients, their hands glowing faintly as they dulled pain, reset bones, and forced shattered flesh to knit.
But magic only stretched so far. Bandages, splints, and patience had become the true tools of survival.
When Jae was lowered onto an empty cot near the far wall, the hush around him deepened. Elise was already there, sleeves rolled to the elbow, her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat and soot.
She pressed her hand against his chest, searching for his pulse. Her expression tightened, lips pressed together, before a shiver of relief passed through her when she found it. "Still here," she whispered, not to anyone in particular, perhaps not even to herself.
