Franc's jaw tightened. He lowered Kloss to the ground, laying him against a rock with more care than the situation warranted. Then he straightened, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. The steel whispered free of its sheath, catching the dim light as he raised it before him.
"It seems we won't have a chance to escape," Franc said, his voice low and steady.
Gilbert's head snapped toward him, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You want to fight them?! Are you insane?!"
Franc's gaze didn't waver. "There's no other choice. If we run, they'll cut us down from behind. If we surrender, they'll kill us anyway. At least this way, we die on our feet."
Reith's hand tightened on his own blade, his jaw set. "I'll try to stretch my aura as far as it'll go—buy us some time. But honestly?" A bitter laugh escaped him. "I don't think it'll be enough."
