The temple walls quaked under the weight of ancient magic. Shadows slithered like vipers, entwining Lucas's bloodied form as he gasped against the cold stone altar. The black tendrils pressed tighter around his chest, each pulse a knife twisting into Ava's soul. The sorceress's laughter ricocheted off the jagged walls, venomous and unrelenting.
"You see, little Ava," the sorceress crooned, her voice a melody of contempt. "You were never meant to be the hero of this story. Just the tragedy."
Ava strained against the dark magic binding her, every movement like fire raking her veins. Her heart pounded, a war drum in the chaos, as Lucas's ragged breath grew fainter.
"Lucas!" she choked, desperation cracking her voice. "Stay with me! Please!"
He managed to turn his head, his once-bright eyes dull with pain but still fixed on hers. "Ava…" His voice was barely a whisper, yet it struck her like a thunderclap. "Don't… let her break you."
