The light faded slowly, reluctantly, as if the radiance itself was loath to surrender its brilliance to the darkness that had ruled this room for so long. Golden motes drifted through the air like dying stars, settling gently on the destruction below.
Seraphina's knees buckled.
She caught herself on her remaining hand, her chest heaving, her vision swimming. The sword slipped from her grip, clattering against the stone. Every muscle in her body screamed. Her severed arm throbbed with a pain that was almost beyond endurance. Her aura flickered weakly, a dying ember in a sea of exhaustion.
'Get up,' she commanded herself. 'Get up. Elise. Where is Elise?'
She forced her head up, scanning the ruined room through the haze of pain. Debris everywhere. Cracked walls. The remnants of holy wards still sparking faintly in the corners. And there, crumpled against the far wall—
Elise.
