The atmosphere settled.
Terror receded like a tide withdrawing from a ruined shore, leaving only silence behind.
Kiaria fell.
Not violently–but as if the weight he had carried no longer had reason to hold him upright.
The shield remained.
Translucent, unwavering, enclosing his unconscious body even as he descended.
Before he struck the ground, space folded.
The Yaksha Queen appeared beneath him and caught him gently, as though afraid even gravity might wound him further. She lowered herself and sat, placing his head upon her lap.
Careful. Reverent.
The shield began to thin.
Layer by layer, it dissolved into the air like breath fading from glass.
Diala ran.
She ignored the surrounding army. Ignored the Dragon Emperors. Ignored the Queen herself. She dropped to her knees before him, hands trembling as they hovered over his chest.
"What happened to him?" she asked urgently.
"Is he… alright?"
No one answered.
White mist began to spread across the ground.
Not violently.
