Dawn was a distant promise when I finally let myself breathe. The sky was still a deep shade of indigo, with the faintest hint of light creeping along the horizon. The forest was unnervingly quiet—too quiet.
Never trust the silence.
Julien stood near the edge of the clearing, his sword resting against his shoulder. His eyes scanned the treeline, sharp and unwavering, but I could see the exhaustion in his posture. He hadn't rested.
None of us had.
Mira knelt beside Wallace, carefully adjusting the crude ward we'd set up to keep whatever was inside Leo from spreading. Her hands moved with practiced precision, but I didn't miss the slight tremor in her fingers.
Wallace was barely conscious, his face pale and drenched with sweat. Mana exhaustion was a cruel thing. He wouldn't recover fully without proper rest and a steady flow of mana—two things we didn't have right now.
And Leo…
