{I write these words with my blood.}
….
The moment Fryssel had rushed out of the Magistrate building, the Haklarans had flooded the area, swinging themselves towards the building like a tide, aiming to smash and shatter. The gigantic Haklaran led the charge, rushing towards the building in mad fury.
Sharen was helpless. He was injured badly and his healing process hadn't even regenerated a finger's length of flesh—it was a tough and energy consuming process and he knew it. Narene was out of magical energy too. She was bent over, coughing hard from over exertion of her body.
Even Sharen felt the effects of dragging his magical energy. His body couldn't keep up with the fast load and release of magical energy and the tear in his chest was fear inciting.
'Come on, Kratamarhl,' Sharen found himself desperately calling to the artefact for help. He realised that if it didn't want him dead them it would lend a hand. 'Give me a speedy healing!'
