The girls burst out of the flickering flames of the fireplace and stumbled into darkness. The sudden chill of the room sent a shiver through Maris as she instinctively tightened her grip on Amberine's arm, steadying her friend. The air was thick with dust and the stale scent of abandonment. Cobwebs hung in corners like skeletal remains of forgotten moments, and the faint creak of the wooden floor beneath their weight seemed unnaturally loud.
Amberine collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath, her usually fiery eyes dim with exhaustion. Ifrit's presence, typically a comforting warmth beneath her robe, felt faint and distant.
"Amberine," Maris whispered urgently, crouching beside her friend and gripping her shoulders. "We can't stay here."
Amberine groaned softly, her head lolling forward. "I—I can't move…" she murmured, her voice raw. "I've got nothing left."
