Roselia reached him first, golden runes sparking desperately as she pressed both hands against Leon's chest. "Don't you dare give out now—hold on!" Her barrier-light flickered, barely stitching together the cracks spreading across his body.
Roman stumbled beside her, coughing blood, but his hands were steady as he grabbed Leon's shoulder. "He's still here. He's still fighting. Don't waste breath talking about anything else."
Liliana knelt, her staff pulsing with faint echoes, amplifying Roselia's healing into a fragile harmony. Naval stood a few steps away, trident braced in the fractured ground, eyes on the throne that still burned with lingering authority. His jaw tightened. "…If Leon takes that seat now, it'll consume him."
Milim hovered above, wings spread wide, pink and white fire chasing away the last of the void storm. Her expression for once lacked her usual playfulness. "…And if he doesn't, the other Sovereigns will descend."
