The cleric knelt, armor smeared with ash and old blood, one trembling hand hovering above the warrior’s chest. Her fingers glowed faintly, but the light flickered, guttering like a candle before a draft.
“Stay with me, Calder,” she whispered. “Please, you stubborn bastard.”
The fighter’s 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 they’d dropped was dying. They had minutes. Maybe less.
She clenched her jaw, channeling the last of her spell through gritted teeth. “If the gods do watch this place, now is the time to notice.”
The glow sparked—brighter this time.
A cough. A twitch of his fingers.
Then silence.
The light faded from her palm.
She didn’t move. Just stared at his chest, waiting to see if it rose again.
And in the dark beyond, something began to move towards them...
