Cold air slammed into Shunya's lungs as he hit the ground outside the ruined compound.
For a split second, he tasted freedom.
Then he heard the shouting.
"They are out! After them!"
Bandits spilled through the burning gap like insects from a cracked nest, their torches glowing like hungry eyes in the night.
Naomi grabbed Shunya by the collar of his torn shirt. "On your feet now, Shunya!"
He could not see her clearly through the smoke blurring his vision, but he felt the urgency in her grip. Felt her trembling— barely standing herself.
"I.... I am..... trying," he gasped, pushing off the ground. His legs wobbled dangerously.
Vikoria shoved her shoulder under his arm to help prop him up.
"Lean on me," she whispered, voice shaking, "I am still here."
She was pale, white as ash, but her grip did not loosen.
Naomi stood in front of them, sword lifted with both hands. The blade trembled. Her shoulders sagged. Her breaths came sharp and uneven.
But she faced the darkness anyway.
