The dawn broke over the remnants of the battlefield, casting its pale light over the devastation that stretched endlessly before them. Lucas knelt on the blood-stained ground, his arms wrapped around Ava's frail form. The silence was deafening, broken only by the soft, shallow breaths that escaped her lips—each one a victory, and each one a reminder of how close she had come to losing everything.
"Ava," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, trembling with a mixture of relief and fear. "You're alive. Thank God, you're alive."
Her eyes fluttered open, the vibrant green now dull, almost lifeless, as if the battle had drained not just her strength but her very essence. She tried to smile, but even that small act seemed to cost her. Her fingers twitched weakly against his chest, a feeble attempt to offer comfort in return.
"I told you," she rasped, her voice barely audible, "I'd never leave you."
