Kael forced his head up.
Sage lay on the ground. Motionless. Her clothes were charred rags. Her golden fur was blackened in patches. Smoke rose from her body in thin, lazy streams. The fox halo was gone—extinguished.
But she was breathing.
The halo had done its job. No deep tissue damage. No scars. Second-degree burns at worst—painful, debilitating, but survivable. Her beast-kin healing factor was already working, visible as a faint golden glow beneath the scorched fur.
Unconscious, not dead.
Mira raised both hands.
Ice and fire spiraled toward Seraphine—twin columns of opposing elements converging into a single point directly at the flame goddess's back.
Seraphine didn't turn.
She simply waved one hand backward.
A curtain of fire erupted between her and Mira's attack. The ice portion shattered on contact—steam hissing into the night air. The fire portion was absorbed into the curtain, adding to its intensity.
Then the curtain surged toward Mira.
