As they exited the forest, Richard stumbled slightly, his breathing labored. Ahcehera turned to him sharply, her brows furrowed in concern.
"Richard, are you alright?" she asked, her voice tinged with urgency. Was he injured?
Richard waved her off, his face pale. "I'm fine. Just a little... tired."
Something's not right about him. But Ahcehera wasn't convinced.
She felt the sudden spike in his aura, a suffocating wave of darkness that seemed to cling to him like a shroud. Her instincts screamed that something was wrong with Richard.
"No, you're not," she said firmly, stepping closer. "Your aura... it's unstable. This isn't just fatigue."
Richard opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp jolt of pain coursed through him, and he dropped to one knee, clutching his chest. "Damn it..." he hissed, his voice strained.
