"We need to go," Cyrus muttered, his voice low, though it carried a tone of urgency. He wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling the toll the battle had taken on him. "We're not prepared for this... not yet."
Athena nodded, her face pale but determined. "Agreed. We'll come back... when we're ready."
Sylus, still catching his breath, glanced back at the menacing altar at the center of the room, then at his two companions. His body was bruised, his armor battered, and he could feel the weight of the fight dragging him down. "Let's get the hell out of here."
