Smoke choked the chamber.

  It hung low and thick, clinging to the stone, stinging the eyes and burning the lungs with every breath. The heat lingered like a living thing, pressing in from all sides, the air warped and trembling in the fireball’s wake.

  Carcan was already moving.

  She didn’t remember deciding to run. One moment she was on her knees, bracing herself against the blast, the next her feet were pounding stone and her vision had narrowed to a single point.

  Josh.

  He wasn’t breathing.

  “No,” Carcan whispered, then louder, sharper, panic tearing through her voice. “No no no no—”

  Her command skill flared into existence without conscious thought, only for it to show that Josh’s HP was the lowest she’d ever seen, and still going down.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs.

  “I’ve got you,” she gasped, dropping to her knees beside him so hard it bruised. Her hands hovered for half a second, shaking, before slamming down against his chestplate and shoulder.

  Light erupted from her palms.

  Healing magic poured out of her in a blinding surge, brighter than she had ever dared cast before. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t efficient. It was raw, desperate power, dragged screaming from her core and forced into his broken body.

  Her veins burned.

  Josh’s armour hissed as heat bled away. Charred leather softened. Cracks in scorched metal creaked as they shifted. Beneath it, flesh knit with wet, visceral sounds. Burns faded from angry black to raw red, then paled further as skin struggled to reform.

  The HP number stuttered.

  Still dropping.

  “No,” Carcan snarled, teeth clenched. “Not like this.”

  She pushed harder.

  Her vision blurred as the spell devoured her mana. The chamber dimmed around her as if the world itself were losing colour, all of it being dragged into the light blazing from her body. Her hair lifted slightly, caught in an unseen current, her skin glowing faintly gold beneath the soot and blood.

  Her mana pool plunged.

  Warnings flickered at the edge of her vision and she ignored every single one.

  “Stay,” she begged, voice breaking. “Josh, please. Stay.”

  Boots scraped stone behind her.

  Brett skidded to a halt, nearly falling as he dropped beside them. His face was streaked with ash and sweat, eyes wide and wild.

  “Oh gods,” he choked. “Josh. Josh, please. Please be okay.”

  He reached out, then froze, hands hovering uselessly over his best friend’s scorched armour, terrified to touch him.

  “I didn’t mean—” Brett’s voice cracked hard. “I thought… I thought you’d be able to get clear. I thought the shield would hold. Carcan said— I mean, you said—”

  His words tumbled over each other, frantic and broken.

  “I blew you up,” he whispered, horror flooding his face. “I blew you up.”

  Josh didn’t respond.

  The HP ticked.

  Carcan felt it like a knife.

  She screamed in fury and fear and poured everything she had left into the spell.

  Mana tore through her, a roaring flood that left her shaking, muscles spasming under the strain. Blood trickled from her nose, unnoticed, as she forced the magic to do more. Deeper. Faster.

  “Breathe,” she commanded, voice shaking but iron-hard. “Breathe, damn you.”

  Behind them, Bhel dragged the Devastator’s corpse further back with a grunt, boots scraping, eyes never leaving Josh. Blood soaked his beard, dark and drying, his chest rising and falling hard.

  “He’s not dead,” the dwarf said, though his voice was rough, strained with hope more than certainty. “He better not be.”

  Perberos moved silently along the chamber’s edge, retrieving arrows, eyes sharp despite the ash coating his skin. He glanced back once, jaw tight, then returned to his work. The room had to be secure. If something else came now—

  He swallowed.

  Carcan’s magic faltered.

  Her hands shook violently as the light dimmed, sputtered, then flared once more as she forced the last scraps of mana through sheer will. Her command interface blinked urgently.

  Josh’s chest jerked.

  It was barely a movement. Almost nothing.

  But Carcan felt it under her palms.

  “Oh—” She laughed, half sob, half hysteria. “There. There you are.”

  The HP number trembled.

  Then, slowly, painfully, Josh dragged in a breath.

  It came with a wet, rattling cough, smoke and ash spilling from his lips as his body convulsed. His fingers twitched once, then curled weakly against the stone.

  Brett let out a broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and immediately leaned forward, gripping Josh’s shoulder.

  “Hey,” he babbled. “Hey, you absolute idiot. You scared the hell out of me. You can’t do that. You don’t get to do that.”

  Carcan slumped forward, forehead pressing briefly against Josh’s chestplate as the glow around her faded. Her arms felt like lead. Her vision swam.

  The HP stabilised. Low. Dangerously low.

  But no longer falling.

  Josh breathed again, shallow and uneven, but alive.

  The chamber was quiet now as everyone held their breath.

  Bhel finally let himself sit down hard against a stone pillar, axes resting across his knees. Perberos lowered his bow slightly, shoulders loosening just a fraction.

  Carcan stayed where she was, hands still pressed to Josh as if letting go might undo everything.

  Brett wiped his eyes angrily with the back of his sleeve and forced a shaky grin.

  “Do you think it’s too late,” he said hoarsely, “For me to go back and change to frost magic?”

  No one laughed.

  Pain came first. It was everywhere.

  Josh surfaced into it like drowning in fire, awareness clawing its way back through layers of agony that had no single source. His body felt wrong. Heavy. Broken. As if every bone had been heated, bent, and then set again without asking permission.

  He tried to breathe.

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  His lungs burned.

  A hoarse sound dragged itself out of his throat, half gasp, half groan, and that alone sent lightning through his chest and down his spine.

  Oh. Right.

  He remembered fire.

  A lot of fire.

  Josh’s eyes fluttered open, immediately regretted it, and slammed shut again as light stabbed through his skull. His head throbbed in time with his pulse, each beat a hammer against the inside of his temples.

  “Josh?”

  The voice cut through the pain.

  Carcan.

  He tried to answer. His mouth was dry, tongue thick, words sticking somewhere between thought and sound.

  “Don’t— don’t move,” she said quickly, the words tumbling over each other. “Please. Just— just stay still.”

  Josh managed a shallow breath and cracked one eye open again. This time he forced himself to keep it open, blinking through the blur until the world began to resolve.

  Stone ceiling. Fractured and blackened. Mana-gems dimmed and cracked, their glow muted and uneven. Smoke stains crawled across the rock like burn scars.

  And Carcan.

  She was right there, kneeling beside him, face pale beneath streaks of soot and blood that wasn’t all hers. Her eyes were bright and glassy, fixed on him with an intensity that made his chest tighten more than the injuries did.

  Her hands hovered over him, glowing faintly, as if she wasn’t entirely convinced he was real yet.

  “Hey,” he croaked.

  The sound of his own voice startled him. It was rough, shredded, like he’d swallowed gravel.

  Carcan inhaled sharply.

  “Oh thank the gods,” she whispered, and then her hands were on him.

  She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, careful of his injuries but still firm, holding him like she might anchor him to the world by sheer force of will. Her grip tightened, and she didn’t let go.

  Josh froze.

  Pain flared where she pressed against him, but he barely noticed. His brain lagged behind the moment, struggling to catch up with the reality of her being there, solid and warm and shaking slightly.

  “That’s… new,” he murmured weakly.

  Carcan laughed, a breathless, broken sound that immediately turned into something dangerously close to a sob. She didn’t pull away.

  “Don’t you dare joke,” she said, voice muffled against his shoulder. “You were— you were gone. Your HP was at one. It kept dropping. I couldn’t—”

  Her fingers clenched in the fabric of his scorched armour.

  Josh swallowed.

  He lifted his good arm slowly, testing it, every inch of movement screaming in protest. Eventually, he managed to rest his hand awkwardly against her back.

  “I’m here,” he said quietly. “I think.”

  She stayed like that longer than necessary. Longer than anyone commented on.

  Josh didn’t mind.

  Eventually, Carcan pulled back just enough to look at his face, her expression shifting into something stern and healer-focused, though her hands still hadn’t quite left him.

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  Josh considered the question.

  “My leg is on fire,” he said slowly. “My arm feels like it’s been chewed on by something with opinions. My lungs hate me. And I’m… very tired.”

  She nodded, lips pressed thin. “That tracks.”

  He blinked up at her. “Did it work?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Did what work?”

  “The plan,” he said. “Holding it. The fireball. I remember shouting. I remember… pushing forward. The glaive was stuck in my leg, I think. Couldn’t move.”

  His jaw tightened as the memory sharpened.

  “I stabbed it,” he said quietly. “I remember that. I remember thinking… if it was going to kill me, it was going to stay right there while it did and look it in the eyes.”

  The chamber was very quiet for a moment.

  Then Brett’s face appeared in his field of vision, pale beneath the grime, eyes rimmed red.

  “You absolute maniac,” Brett said hoarsely.

  Josh turned his head slightly. That was a mistake. Stars burst behind his eyes and he hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Yeah,” he rasped. “I get that.”

  Brett let out a shaky laugh that didn’t quite hold together. He dropped to a knee beside them, hands twisting together uselessly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “Josh, I’m so sorry. I— I told you to get out. I didn’t know the glaive— I thought—”

  “I know,” Josh said.

  Brett stared at him.

  “I trust you,” Josh continued, voice quiet but steady despite the pain. “If you hadn’t fired, it would’ve killed me anyway. Probably killed all of us.”

  Brett swallowed hard.

  “I still blew you up,” he muttered.

  “Yeah,” Josh admitted. “Didn’t love that part.”

  A weak smile tugged at Brett’s mouth before it wavered and vanished again. He scrubbed at his face angrily.

  Bhel loomed into view next, crouching with a grunt. He looked rough. Blood matted his beard, armour dented and scorched, but his eyes were sharp and very much alive.

  “Ah good,” the dwarf said simply. “You’re awake.”

  Josh glanced at him. “Did we win?”

  Bhel snorted. “Aye. Both of them. Made a right mess of the place, though.”

  Perberos approached more quietly, standing just behind Bhel. He gave Josh a short nod.

  “Area’s secure,” he said. “Nothing else moving.”

  Josh exhaled slowly, relief washing through him despite the pain.

  “Good,” he murmured. “I was worried I’d died and this was the afterlife.”

  Bhel grunted. “If this is the afterlife, ” looking at Perberos, “It needs prettier company.”

  Carcan finally shifted, sitting back on her heels, though she still kept one hand resting lightly against Josh’s chest as if to reassure herself he was still solid.

  “You nearly did,” she said softly. “Another second and I wouldn’t have been able to pull you back.”

  Josh looked at her properly then.

  She was exhausted. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, her posture sagging now that the crisis had passed. The glow of magic was gone from her entirely, leaving her pale and trembling with spent mana.

  “You burned yourself out,” he said quietly.

  She huffed a weak laugh. “Worth it.”

  Their eyes held for a moment longer than necessary. Josh felt something warm stir beneath the pain.

  “Hey,” he said gently. “Next time, don’t scare me like that.”

  She blinked. Then she smacked his shoulder.

  He yelped. “Ow—!”

  “You do not get to say that,” she snapped, then immediately looked horrified. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

  He laughed despite himself, the sound breaking into a cough.

  Brett stood, clearing his throat. “So. Uh. When you’re able to move again, we should probably… not do that again.”

  “Agreed,” Perberos said.

  Bhel nodded. “Once per lifetime feels fair.”

  Josh closed his eyes briefly, letting the exhaustion pull at him.

  “Just give me a minute,” he murmured. “I think I’ve earned it.”

  Carcan squeezed his hand gently.

  “You have,” she said.

  Josh lay there breathing, shallow but steady now, eyes closed as the worst of the pain dulled into something survivable. Carcan stayed beside him, sitting cross-legged on the stone, one hand resting lightly on his forearm as if afraid he might vanish the moment she let go.

  Bhel broke the silence first.

  “Well,” the dwarf said, rolling his shoulders with a pained grunt. “That was unpleasant.”

  Brett let out a weak laugh that turned into a sigh. He sank down against a cracked pillar, sliding until he was sitting, head tipped back against the stone.

  “I don’t ever want to feel mana like that again,” he muttered. “It was like trying to breathe through sand. Every pull scraped. Nothing wanted to move. I don’t like this place.”

  Perberos glanced at him. “You still pulled it together.”

  “Barely,” Brett replied. “I thought my channels were going to tear. I was one bad pull away from passing out face-first into a glaive.”

  Josh cracked one eye open. “Next time,” he rasped, “maybe aim that face-first thing at the enemy.”

  Brett startled, then grinned weakly. “Oh good. He’s still sarcastic. That’s a relief.”

  Carcan looked down at Josh, relief softening her expression. “Don’t push yourself.”

  “I’m not,” Josh said. “This is me resting.”

  Bhel snorted. “You have a strange idea of rest, lad.”

  Perberos had moved to the fallen Vanguard Chief, nudging the broken glaive aside with the toe of his boot. He studied the corpse for a moment, then straightened. Almost on cue, the bodies began to break apart.

  Scales cracked, then sloughed away like ash. Bone and armour followed, dissolving into motes of light that drifted upward before fading into nothing. The massive forms that had nearly ended them were gone in seconds, leaving only scorched stone and deep gouges where they had fallen.

  Josh watched it happen, too tired to feel much beyond a distant sense of satisfaction.

  A low, resonant hum rolled through the chamber, deeper than before. The fractured mana-gems embedded in the walls brightened, their light stabilising, shifting from erratic flickers to a steady glow.

  With a sound like grinding stone and settling earth, something appeared at the centre of the dais.

  A chest.

  It was large, banded with dark metal and etched with simple geometric runes that pulsed faintly. It hadn’t risen from the floor or dropped from the ceiling. One moment there had been bare stone, the next there was unmistakably a dungeon reward, solid and waiting.

  Bhel’s eyebrows rose. “There it is.”

  Brett pushed himself to his feet, eyeing it warily. “Please tell me it doesn’t explode.”

  Perberos tilted his head, listening. “No traps,” he said after a moment. “At least… none obvious.”

  As if to punctuate the moment, stone groaned again at the far end of the chamber.

  Dust spilled from the wall as a section of rock sank inward, revealing a newly carved stairwell descending into darkness below. The steps were broad and deliberate, smoothed by magic rather than tools, spiralling downward out of sight.

  Carcan exhaled slowly. “Stairs.”

  Josh sighed. “Of course there are.”

  Brett looked between the chest and the stairs, then back at Josh. “Good news and bad news?”

  Josh didn’t open his eyes this time. “Chest first,” he said. “Then stairs. In that order. Preferably after I can stand without my leg screaming at me.”

  Carcan smiled despite herself and squeezed his arm gently. “Agreed.”