Panic gripped him, but Seisyll forced himself to his feet. He clutched the beastcore tightly, its warmth a faint comfort against the encroaching dread.
"I'm not dying here." He whispered to himself, the words shaky yet resolute.
The first magma bear reached the lake's edge, its glowing claws sinking into the rock with a sharp hiss. It let out a guttural roar, shaking the air and making Seisyll's knees buckle. He fumbled with his dagger, the weapon suddenly feeling pitiful in the face of such overwhelming power.
The second and third bears flanked their kin, moving closer. Their molten forms dripped with glowing streams of magma that sizzled as they struck the ground.
Seisyll forced himself to breathe deeply, drawing on every scrap of training he had ever endured. He raised his dagger and began muttering incantations, not for attack, but for defense. Thin shields of water magic formed around him, shimmering in the heat. They wouldn't hold for long.
