Despair threatened to engulf Luke as he witnessed Anya crumple against the rocks, her fiery aura flickering weakly. Gareth, his face contorted in pain, fought with a desperate ferocity, but a single mistake would surely be his last. Vermalis loomed over them, its emerald eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.
A wave of nausea washed over Luke. He had inhaled a lungful of the serpent's venomous mist, and its effects were swift and brutal. His vision swam, his limbs felt heavy, and a burning sensation spread through his chest. He stumbled, his grip on his silver blade faltering.
But amidst the haze of pain and despair, a spark of defiance ignited within him. He wouldn't let his friends fall. He wouldn't let the darkness win. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the emerald stone in his hand. He poured his remaining strength, his will to fight, into the connection with the forest.
