It took several agonizing moments of watching Sheila struggle to breathe before Willow finally managed to get a grip on her panic. Steeling her nerves, she moved silently through the stone outcroppings to Sheila's side. Without a word, she helped her friend slip into a deeper, narrow fissure between two heavy granite slabs—a far more secure vantage point away from the Chaos Lich's sweeping line of sight.
With her hands trembling, Willow pulled Sheila close to begin emergency first aid:
She unslung her pouch and pulled out a handful of dense, silver-veined mountain leaves.
Twisting and grinding the herbs between her palms, she squeezed out a thick, dark green juice directly into Sheila's open burns.
She tore strips of clean cloth from her tunic, wrapping the scorched limbs tightly to stem the bleeding and lock the poultice in place.
The herbal extract reacted instantly with the raw tissue, burning like liquid frost. Sheila's entire body went rigid; her jaw clamped shut so hard her teeth creaked, tears of agonizing pain cutting pale tracks through the soot on her face.
Willow pulled back, her heart aching as she looked upon her friend. Sheila was far from healed, but the immediate bleeding had stopped, and for now, the shadowed crevice kept them hidden from the carnage unfolding on the plateau.Willow refined her field dressing, carefully scooping the bruised herbal pulp onto strips of clean tunic cloth.
Using tough mountain vines to bind the poultices tightly in place, she secured the remedies across Sheila's raw burns and torn flesh. Once the makeshift bandages were set, Sheila let out a rasping breath, her throat so scorched she could manage only a hoarse, crackling "Thank you."
Knowing first aid alone would not keep Sheila alive, Willow set out to find Young, hoping his skills could accelerate the healing process. Slinging one of Sheila's trembling arms over her shoulder to steady her weight, Willow kept them both crouched low beneath the jagged mountain ledges, avoiding the sweeping gazes of the liches as they continued their brutal engagement with the remaining two dark elves.
When they finally dragged themselves into the narrow rocky cleft where Young had taken shelter, Willow's heart sank.
Young's face was deathly pale, his skin drawn tight over hollow features. The reckless, lustful confidence he usually exuded had vanished entirely, replaced by a hollow, shuddering dread.
He sat curled against the cold granite, his entire frame trembling violently as he stared blankly at the dust on his boots. The grim reality of their situation had utterly broken him; he was paralyzed by the suffocating conviction that none of them would leave this plateau alive.Willow couldn't bring herself to blame him; the same suffocating terror had nearly paralyzed her only moments before.
All she could do was pray he still possessed enough power to heal Sheila. Despite the herbal compresses bound to her friend's flesh, Sheila's life was visibly slipping away. The crude medicine slowed the decay, but without magical intervention, her fragile condition would take weeks to stabilize—time they simply did not have.
Crouching beside him, Willow voiced her grim concerns, explaining the concoctions she had applied and carefully pointing toward the most grievous burns, even though Sheila's charred armor and torn skin spoke loudly enough.
Young stared blankly for a beat, his weary eyes drifting toward the shadows where their other companion hid, before finally looking down at Sheila's broken form. Sucking in a ragged breath, he forced his trembling, gloved hands onto her smoldering chest and initiated the healing process.
A faint, pale light flickered from his palms, struggling against the dark, lingering curses of the chaos fire. His brow beaded with cold sweat as he poured his remaining vitality into his gloves in an effort to rid Sheila of her wounds, every painful surge of magic threatening to collapse his already exhausted frame right beside her.Willow lingered for a brief moment, her eyes locked on Sheila as the pale spell-light knit scorched tissue and eased her ragged breathing.
Relieved to see her friend finally stabilizing, Willow knew she could not remain hidden in the safety of the rocks while the fate of their squad hung in the balance. Leaving Sheila in Young's hands, she crept low against the jagged cliffs, returning to the edge of the plateau to gauge how the desperate struggle against the soul beings was progressing.
What met her eyes was a ghastly nightmare. The battleground was a ruin of torn granite, blinding chaos flames, and violent shockwaves. Staring down at the brutal massacre below, Willow's knuckles turned white as she gripped her fanged dagger tightly. A volatile mixture of paralyzing terror and stubborn determination collided within her mind, locking her limbs in place as she froze at the cliff's edge, utterly unsure of what her next move should be.
The chaotic battlefield before her offered no openings, only raw annihilation.Out of the corner of her eye, Willow witnessed an harrowing sight. Her gaze fell on Eric, his body mangled and twisted into grotesque disproportions; it seemed his innate regeneration couldn't heal his flesh fast enough before the monstrous centipede-lich ravaged his frame anew with its thrashing legs and crushing mandibles.
Yet Eric was not the only one facing a nightmare. KO was barely staying alive, and though he looked relatively unscathed at a glance, the Chaos Lich continued her relentless, murderous barrage upon him. With every passing second, KO narrowly evaded each incoming projectile. Willow could only gasp in fright at the microscopic margins by which he dodged every flaming orb.
However, while KO's nimble reflexes allowed him to evade direct hits from the fireballs, the collateral detonations shattering the granite around him were impossible to escape. The raw, concussive shockwaves threw him violently from place to place, pummeling his body against the jagged terrain. The impact created deep, dark bruises across his skin, which gradually split under the continuous pressure, festering into wide, bleeding wounds that threatened to tear his remaining stamina to shreds.
Every brutal explosion eroded KO's defenses further, painting the rocky plateau with his blood and leaving him disoriented amid the choking smoke.
The new wounds, however, were entirely different from the superficial bruises KO had endured earlier. Where bruises had merely throbbed beneath his skin, his flesh was now tearing open in one place after another. Yet, despite the agonizing damage, KO fought through the pain, still trying to perform at the peak of his ability as he evaded the Chaos Lich's relentless attacks.
Now, KO was trapped in a grave dilemma. Though his mind screamed for his body to twist and vault in specific, lightning-fast maneuvers, his limbs refused to respond. He simply no longer possessed the energy required to force his body into motion.
He was losing far more blood now than when he was merely covered in dark bruises—and that crimson loss was catastrophic. His blood was imperative to his physical function, carrying the vital energy, oxygen, and metabolic fuel that maintained his stability and speed in high-stakes combat.
With every hot crimson droplet spilling onto the cold stone, his reaction times grew dangerously sluggish and his vision blurred at the edges. His body was steadily shutting down, threatening to transform his once-flawless evasive instincts into a fatal misstep against the oncoming inferno.