Meanwhile, Max's scorched body, still wrapped in a soft silver glow, hovered weakly in the air, cradled gently by Lenavira as if the slightest touch might shatter him completely. His skin was blackened and cracked, flaking off in delicate wisps of ash with every passing second.
Even with the full force of healing energy pouring from Lenavira's mother, the silver-haired elven queen, the process of his body turning to dust continued slowly, irreversibly. The glow merely dulled the rate of destruction—it couldn't stop it.
The elven queen's brows furrowed deeply as her hands trembled, coated in silver light. "What… was that lightning?" she murmured under her breath, her voice tight with disbelief as her gaze swept over Max's ruined form. "Its aftereffects are still tearing through his body… it's like it refuses to leave him. I think…" she paused grimly, "…I think it will only stop when he dies."
