"Come on! Wake up already!" Myia shouted, her voice sharp enough to rattle the still air of the chamber. She hovered above Zakar, her arms folded and her brows knitted in irritation.
The Zakar lay sprawled on his side, unmoving, save for the faint rise and fall of his chest. His lips parted slightly, his breath steady but heavy, as though he were deep in a dream too thick to climb out of.
"Ugh, seriously?!" Myia groaned, stomping her foot.
Zakar stirred only slightly, shifting his posture, one arm sliding beneath his cheek as though trying to burrow further into sleep. He looked almost peaceful, a cruel contradiction to the battles and bloodshed of the day before.
"He's weak," Justin's voice came from the corner, laced with contempt. His arms were crossed, flames dancing faintly between his fingers like idle sparks of impatience.
