Leon crawled to his feet, gripping his dagger, useless against magic.
His thoughts spiraled—I'm useless.
Sloppy. Dead weight. If I had fire, I could help. If Saria was here…
Terya's hand grabbed his, yanking him behind a stone font, her green eyes fierce.
"Hey—listen to me," she whispered, her forehead nearly touching his, her fingers digging into his palm.
"This is not the time to panic, hero. We're not dead. Not yet. So get your shit together."
"But—" he started, his voice shaking.
"No buts," she said, her eyes softening. "You're not a fighter yet. Fine. But you've got something the rest of us don't. You adapt. You care. That matters more than power here."
She brushed her lips against his cheek, a brief, warm kiss, her breath grounding him.
"And I believe in you. So start believing in yourself."
Leon's breath caught, a surge of wind fluttering at his fingertips, Terya's bond pulsing strong. He nodded, his voice steadier.
"Right. Let's end this."
They emerged together.
