>>Draegon
I couldn't breathe.
Not like how I should be breathing. My chest was tight, every inhale was fire and gravel. I stood because instinct told me to. But when the nun crushes me under her, she punctured my ribs pretty bad and since then I have been having trouble breathing.
My vision was a red haze. The courtyard was little more than a blur of broken bodies, shattered stone, and the shrill shrieks of the spider nun echoing endlessly in front of the crumbling palace walls. I swayed where I stood. One leg buckled slightly, and I corrected with a stumble, claws dragging a groove into the dust beneath me.
I could hear them fighting around me—Ariston's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and defiant—but the battlefield was warped, as if I were underwater.
I opened my mouth to warn them.
"The eye. Her core was in her eye." I wanted to say it
But nothing came out.
No sound. No flame. No words.
Just the metallic taste of my own breath.
