Maxim vaguely heard the sharp roars of the Scaya Dragonfolk. He heard Dietlinde shouting his name.
He fell back onto the ground.
A blinding, incandescent light, like a sun hanging high in the sky, reflected in his slowly fading pupils.
In his daze, Maxim saw a tall Knight bathed in holy light. He had long, silver-frost hair as brilliant as a galaxy, and his heavy Golden Armor was solemn and majestic.
The Knight looked down at him, his gaze cold and merciless.
An unseen force flooded into Maxim's body. The instinct to survive made him reach out his right hand and tightly grasp the large hand the strange Knight extended toward him, struggling to crawl back from the brink of death into the world of the living.
As his mind regained control of his body and his senses returned, Maxim quickly reached for his chest. The bleeding from the fatal, bone-deep wound had already stopped, and it gave off the stench of scorched flesh.
