The summit had fallen silent.
The Ice Wyvern lay dead—its colossal body frozen mid-sprawl, streaks of pale frost still swirling in the air. The ground was littered with shattered ice and scattered blood. No sound but the soft hiss of wind over stone.
Noel let out a slow breath and dropped to his knees.
Every muscle in his body ached—tight, burning. His limbs felt heavier than lead. Mana… gone. His core felt hollow, brittle.
He clenched his jaw.
'I can't afford to pass out.'
Biting his tongue sharply, he forced the dull pain to jolt his senses awake. The metallic tang of blood hit his mouth, grounding him.
Slowly, he pushed himself upright.
"Looks like we did it," he murmured hoarsely.
His gaze shifted to the fallen wyvern.
He dragged himself forward—step by painful step—until he stood beside the great beast. The air was colder here. He could feel the lingering chill from Selene's spell biting through his coat.
