"Careful. Mind your footing." Lysander tugged gently on the phoenix's arm, concerned by her vacant stare and stiff movement. As he glanced up at the wild sky, his brow furrowed.
"Is that a storm approaching?" he asked, his voice soft amidst the howling wind.
Eleanor shook her head, blinking slowly and dully.
Sighing heavily with frustration, Lysander released her hand and draped his cloak over her shivering shoulders. The biting cold had numbed his own senses, and he chastised himself for neglecting her.
The snake coiled around her neck seemed to blend into the darkness. "What a pest." He frowned at the guardian beast.
Eleanor stared at him with those vacant eyes, her trembling hands betraying her struggle against Morana's control.
His eyes narrowed. "Don't fight it,"
He grasped her hands firmly, rubbing them gently to infuse warmth. "You're not strong enough."
