Somewhere at the back of Drystan's head, there was a prickling sensation.
He was starting to get lightheaded. Everything around him was spinning.
"Drystan!" she was crying in his head now, his name a broken, bloody thing on her lips. "Ercilia," he had barely breathed, wishing so badly that he could truly see her at that moment.
Drystan focused on the dull hum, pulling it toward him until it howled and surged against his eyes then under his skin. Gone were the sounds from his surroundings as his mind zeroed in on an image of Ercilia, pumping life back into him.
And he could have laughed in relief as the exhaustion suddenly left his bones and was replaced by a familiar burn of power.
Drystan timed it, incredibly sure of himself now, and waited until the man pulled back his fist for another strike. With that, Drystan let himself go limp in the other man's arms, using the slight give in his restraint to press back quickly and kick up his feet.
