The Mafiaso And The AD 1024

Darkness closed in

As the dust settled in the ballroom, the weight of everything that had transpired pressed heavily on my shoulders.

The enemies lay lifeless around me, but our allies-those who fought bravely by our side-still needed help.

My body was weary, but I knew I couldn't stop yet. There was still work to be done.

I took a deep breath, centring myself, and closed my eyes. The power within me surged as I focused on teleporting the remaining allies and our mafia to the safety of the hideout.

The energy required for such a large-scale teleportation was immense, but I pushed forward, knowing it was necessary.

The world around me blurred as I chanted the teleportation spell. I could feel the magic coursing through my veins, pulling every person from the battlefield and transporting them to the hideout.

The sensation of shifting space and time was intense, but I kept my focus, ensuring that everyone arrived safely.

When I opened my eyes, we were back in the hideout, the familiar walls giving a sense of relief and security.

The room was filled with the injured and exhausted, each one needing attention.

Without hesitation, I began to heal them, moving from person to person, channelling my magic to mend their wounds.

The strain on my body and mind was overwhelming. Each healing spell took more out of me than the last, but I pushed through, refusing to let anyone suffer.

The room was filled with soft gasps of relief as the wounds closed, the pain subsiding, and strength returning to those who had fought so hard.

Finally, after healing the last ally, I felt my strength give out. The world around me started to spin, and my legs gave way beneath me.

I fell onto my knees, my hands trembling as I tried to steady myself.

The immense amount of magic I had used throughout the day had drained me completely.

I struggled to keep my eyes open, the exhaustion crashing over me like a wave.

My vision blurred, and I felt the cold floor beneath my hands. I had pushed myself too far, and now my body was demanding the rest it so desperately needed.

As I knelt there, struggling to stay conscious, I could hear the faint voices of our allies and Donte's mafia members, some expressing concern, others trying to gather their bearings after the battle.

But all I could focus on was the overwhelming fatigue that threatened to pull me under.

"Amara!" Marcel's voice cut through the haze, full of worry.

I wanted to respond, to reassure him that I was okay, but the words wouldn't come.

My body felt heavy, and I could barely lift my head to look at him.

Marcel reached me in an instant, his hand on my shoulder, his face etched with concern.

"You've done more than enough," he said softly, trying to pull me up. "You need to rest."

I shook my head weakly, but my body betrayed me, my limbs refusing to obey.

Marcel's grip tightened as he helped me to my feet, supporting most of my weight.

I leaned into him, my vision darkening at the edges as the exhaustion became too much to fight.

As the darkness closed in, I allowed myself to lean on Marcel, knowing that I had done everything I could.

The battle was over, and everyone was safe. I had fulfilled my duty, but now I needed to rest.

And as my eyes finally closed, the world fading away, I knew that when I woke, the fight would continue, but for now, I would allow myself this moment of peace.