"Roland!"
Avril and the others were the first to notice something was amiss with Roland. Weak gasps of alarm escaped them as they tried to rush forward to his side.
But they found it agonizingly difficult to even move their fingertips. All they could manage were faint, terrified cries.
Roland didn't turn back. With extreme difficulty, he simply waved the hand not leaning on his sword, signaling them to be silent and still.
The simple gesture nearly exhausted the last of his strength.
His arm immediately fell limp. Only Bright Moon, plunged into the earth, and his spine—still ramrod straight as he shielded his comrades—proved he had not yet collapsed.
The atmosphere sank into a dead silence.
Above the ruins, beneath the vast sky.
Time lost all meaning.
Perhaps only a moment had passed, or perhaps an eternity had gone by.
Only the mournful howl of the wind through the rubble and Roland's heavy, ragged breaths were starkly clear in the vast, dead quiet.
