Elenya slowly tilted her head, the movement jerky as if she would break apart at any second. Her eyes were steady and determined, though they were circled with red from the rupture of tiny blood vessels. Her mouth still formed words as if she was speaking, but Asthia couldn’t hear them, for the explosion had made her ears ring.
Asthia moved forward, each inch of her frame across the unforgiving stone appearing to be a struggle. Her sword lay somewhere in the ruins, but today she did not mind.
Elenya’s knees gave way, and she fell into the earth. She thrashed on the earth, grass and soil scraping on her burned palms as she tried to absorb the fall.
Smoke continued to rise from her burnt skin. Her shield had absorbed the blow—by half.
Asthia crawled over the broken stones and the disturbed ground until she could reach her finally. She grabbed at Elenya’s arm, cringing at the blistering heat that emanated from under her touch.
The flesh was blistered and shaking, and the acrid smell of burned flesh made bile rise to her throat.
"No—no, wait with me," Asthia croaked. To her own ear, her voice sounded feeble, reed-thin, as though it would be blown away on the wind.
Elenya leaned hard against her, swaying as if the world itself had lost balance beneath her feet.
Asthia grasped her close, holding her tight in her arms. Elenya felt dizzy with lightness, as if the explosion had taken not only her strength but something much deeper within her.
POV – Reth
The three of them walked along a long hallway within the City Lord’s mansion, the twirling torchlight casting across the shattered marble.
Seris took a little lead, her hand on the pommel of her sword. Varric lagged behind, muttering and holding his satchel. Reth was in the center, looking at each shadow.
Varric sniffed. "Lovely place. Too bad there are all these bodies."
"Quiet," Reth said bluntly.
The hallway stretched on and on, doors lining the walls like bars on a cage. Moonlight streamed through the high windows at the other end. Seris slowed, her gaze narrowing. "It feels strange. Like the air just before a storm."
BOOM!
Not just noise—force. A clap of thunder ripped through the structure, shaking the glass in its frames as dust rained down from above. The floor shook beneath their boots. Heat danced on the air.
Reth lurched, his hand over his chest as red system warnings flooded his eyes: ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ NoveIＦire.net
[System Alert: High-Level Mana Detonation Registered]
[Where: Watchtower]
[Corresponding Person: Asthia]
[Status: Critical Danger]
[Status: Critical Danger]
[Status: Critical Danger]
Status: Critical Danger
More warnings crowded his vision, crimson letters piling up until they merged together.
Seris spun around. "What was that—"
Reth’s mind burned. Not again. Not after all this. Catastrophe on top of catastrophe, no letup, no reprieve.
Varric covered his face from dust settling. "Well, that wasn’t exactly welcoming."
Reth’s fists clenched.
"Reth?" Seris was interrupted again.
"No choice," he said. "She’s in trouble."
He broke into a sprint suddenly.
His boots thudded against the marble, echoing behind him as he moved down the corridor. His ribs hurt, his breath searing, but he pushed himself onward.
Seris cursed and followed after him, her sword partially drawn. "Reth! What is going on?!"
He didn’t respond. Couldn’t. The System’s warning flashes burned hotter than agony.
Asthia’s vital signs were unstable.
[Critical Mana Flux Detected]
[Chance of Death: 73%]
His teeth ground together. Faster.
"Wait up, hold up, damn it!" Varric puffed behind, robes blowing, satchel thumping. "This body wasn’t designed for—"
"Shut it and get moving!" Seris snapped, but her eyes flashed at Reth’s retreating back.
"Mana detonation of such scale..." Seris whispered to herself. "This is not natural. What in the world is occurring here?"
The night air hit them harshly when they exploded out of the side hallway of the manor—cold, heavy with smoke. Reth’s lungs burned, but he drove only more fiercely, the System still blinding his eyes with red.
The watchtower loomed ahead fully collapsed burning in flames, smoke rising in the sky.
"Gods above." Seris gasped, a fraction of a second pause. Her eyes went wide at the destruction. "Did that explosion come from there?"
Reth didn’t slow.
He leapt over the garden wall, his boots squashing ash and gravel. The ground shook again, trying to unbalance him.
He charged through the half-collapsed archway. Smoke and fire filled the lower hall, stone split and burning.
And then he saw her.
Asthia, crawling through debris, cloak in tatters, hair full of blood and dust. Elenya lay across her, unconscious in her arms, Asthia protecting her with what was left of her own strength.
Elenya’s burned skin blistered and cracked where smoke continued to curl. Her lips moved soundlessly, breathing rasped.
"Asthia!"
Asthia’s head twitched up. For an instant, her eyes were empty—then something shifted within them, something she could not help. Her lips opened, and the strained line of her jaw eased, just a little. She was no longer the soldier preparing to die, but a human being who had glimpsed a lifeline that she no longer believed she possessed.
She swallowed hard, her shoulders shaking as Elenya’s weight drew her further into the ground. She had vowed that they would never be found—that they would vanish together into the burned grass under the falling ash.
Then a voice tore through the smoke. Heavy footfalls followed, pounding over the burned field.
Elenya’s eyelashes fluttered. Her charred face contorted, but as her eyes fell on the figure fighting to move through the fog, a fire was lit. The tiny smile at the corner of her mouth. A spark that had not been there before.
Hope.
The tower creaked threateningly overhead. Runes glowed with a burning red light, bleeding radiance into the ground until the grass hissed and started to smolder. Ash swirled about them in ghostly veils. But Asthia held on with all the strength she had to Elenya, not letting go, as both their gazes were fixed on the man coming towards them.
Reth.
Every step lit embers from the trash littering the lawn. His sword caught the red glow, but it was not the metal that propelled him forward—it was the image of them.
Asthia, shaking, her arms slick with blood, frantically trying to shield Elenya. Elenya’s flesh burned and charred, every gasp she made crisp and harsh. The view took his breath away. He dropped to one knee next to them, his fingers mere inches from Elenya’s bruised flesh. His voice emerged in a rasp.