Lionhearts ||Skephalo||

55

Her arm burns as Assu stumbles down the path, blindly following the route she had drilled into her memory.
Blood drips down from where the bolt is lodged, the flared arrowhead firmly caught in her flesh despite her best attempts to pull it out. It's not easy to tear your own arm open after all. She can hear the sentries behind her in the distance, shouting.

And she knows what that must mean. If they're reorganizing then that must mean they eliminated a threat, meaning...

Stolfas.

Her eyes fill with tears for a reason other than the pain now, and she forces herself onward, down the path towards the chapel.

This had better not be for nothing. If I let him die only to fail, I couldn't forgive myself.

She can hear distant murmurs in her mind as she slides and skids down the steep cliffside path, the nylium giving way to basalt and blackstone as the dim light of magma suffuses the environment. The murmurs slowly grow louder, recognizable as the voice of...

"Philza," she whispers aloud, relieved at the contact.

"Yep. Assu," his voice is urgent, "did something happen to the mage you were talking about? Something that could cause the mana to be upset?"

She cringes, knowing she doesn't know enough to have anticipated what happened. She's not a mage— just a person who happens to be able to manipulate mana a tiny bit.

"...Yes. I took him out of there, we're bringing him to a safe location. Even though he is...sort of dead."

"Dead?"

"He did die, I think when he cast the spell in the room. He has no pulse— but, and don't be mad," her voice is small, "I gave him the amulet."

"So...he will revive? Why hasn't he already?"

"Morou says he's sealed. When we rescued him they told me the magic in the cell was a powerful seal, something about sacrificing himself."

"So the amulet wasn't able to trigger due to the suppression?"

"I guess? Myr, if you need me to lead you to the place we're hiding, I can—" She cuts off into a sharp shriek as the bolt is shifted, pain shooting from the injury and fogging her thoughts for the moment.

"...you have an arrow in your arm? Did you get in a fight?"

"Over— estimated— things," she huffs, her words spoken through gritted teeth. "I— need to focus, gotta— get to the chapel."

Philza goes quiet, his presence in her mind stilling.

"...I'm going to carefully tell the boy's soulmate that he stands a chance of being recovered then. After all, he deserves some hope."

"Yes, myr," she growls, tightening her grip on the injured arm as though to numb the pain through force, "I need to go, please."

"Stay safe."

With that, his presence is gone, and she's left to stagger across the stone towards the dark silhouette in the distance.

* * *

Stolfas did his part, he's sure. He can feel the bolts where they lodged in the chinks of his armor, and he can feel his own blood seeping out and suffocating his remaining breaths. The blow that did him in was from the sword still lodged in his back— even as he painfully draws in a breath wet with blood, he's at peace.

Assu got away. He can hear them rushing to regroup, knowing he's incapacitated beyond recovery. He coughs softly, tasting blood as his vision starts to grow blurry. He can't think too clearly with so little oxygen, but even as the curtains come to a close for him, he's content.