The battle was over in seconds. Korra and Gayron stood on opposite sides of the great hall, panting lightly. Bodies littered the room, few still drawing breath. Crimson blood stained the tile, flowing in rivulets into the streams cut between the tiles, turning the water red.
I led R'lissea and Fable to the east entrance, gingerly stepping over corpses. Emlica followed after us, diligently remaining within my aura, else she'd disappear. About halfway to the exit, I passed a young man, perhaps twenty, dressed in beginner's leather armor, still breathing, but I restrained myself from healing his wounds. Emlica's gaze burned into my back, the remnant remaining by the shard. Every spell I cast was taking a gamble with my mana; I couldn't risk our chances of returning on the life of a single soul.
