I exhaled as Rachel's Purelight washed over me, cool and clean, like liquid starlight poured along my veins. The radiance threaded through muscle and marrow, not just boosting reflex and reach but pushing back the miasma that rode Gideon's domain—mana steeped in the ideas of ruin and destruction. Where his field tried to drain and twist, hers clarified and set bones and mind straight again.
"Much better," I said, rolling a shoulder as the enhancement settled. Sword Unity slid into place through Nyxthar like water finding its channel. I bled in a measured trickle of Grey—enough to lace the blade and carry intent, not enough to burn out what Rachel had just stabilized. The strain was there, familiar and sharp, but tolerable. I could hold this for a long fight.
