The cleric knelt, armor smeared with ash and old blood, one trembling hand hovering above the warriorâs chest. Her fingers glowed faintly, but the light flickered, guttering like a candle before a draft.
âStay with me, Calder,â she whispered. âPlease, you stubborn bastard.â
The fighterâs breath came in shallow rasps. His eyes, barely open, were unfocused.
Behind them, the dungeon yawned open. Something skittered. Chains rattled in unseen corridors. The torch theyâd dropped was dying. They had minutes. Maybe less.
She clenched her jaw, channeling the last of her spell through gritted teeth. âIf the gods do watch this place, now is the time to notice.â
The glow sparkedâbrighter this time.
A cough. A twitch of his fingers.
Then silence.
The light faded from her palm.
She didnât move. Just stared at his chest, waiting to see if it rose again.
And in the dark beyond, something began to move towards them...
