Mikhailis stood tensely, heart pounding like a caged bird inside his chest. Broken stone and twisted tal lay strewn everywhere, the remnants of a once-grand chamber reduced to a haunting ruin. Even the flicker of dying embers among the rubble seed to deepen the oppressive hush. A swirl of dust motes glimred in the faint, erratic light, and every breath he drew tasted of scorched air and sothing bitter—like blood and old magic left to rot.
His gaze drifted warily across the room. On the far side lood the Enforcer—a dark presence whose silence felt heavier than any threat spoken aloud. The man stood like a statue carved from obsidian, his unreadable face half-veiled in murky shadows. Near him, or at least not far enough for comfort, crouched Auron, grimacing as he scraped at the sticky remnants of necrotic webbing latching onto his arm and coat. Each ti Auron tugged a piece free, his breath rattled unevenly, his jaw clenched as if every movent stabbed at his pride. Farther back, just within Mikhailis's peripheral vision, Laethor clutched his side, his face slick with sweat. Even from a distance, Mikhailis could see the prince's labored breathing—rapid, shallow gasps betraying the pain coursing through him. The battered man was alive, but at what cost? Mikhailis suspected Laethor had little strength left for a fight.
Mikhailis swallowed, throat raw. The tension radiating from the Enforcer pinned him like an insect beneath glass. He felt it in his bones: if he made one wrong step, that silent sentinel would pounce with lethal precision. mories of earlier clashes still burned in his muscles. A part of him recalled with unwelco clarity how the Enforcer's blade had slashed re inches from his skin, how his instincts alone had kept him from certain death.
If I rush in to grab Laethor, the Enforcer will be on before I blink.
He shifted his boots slightly, mindful of a twisted rod of tal jutting from the cracked floor. Each subtle movent sent a jolt of protest from the bruises he'd earned in the skirmish. Indeed, the near misses had co at a price—tight aches that flared with every breath. A single sweat droplet slid down his temple.
Rodion, assess, he thought, half-lidding his eyes to hide his anxiety behind a semblance of composure.
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