Lucien moved.
He reached into his inventory and summoned a Cryogenic Chamber.
The device unfolded with a soft hiss.
Condoriano's Sky Condor body barely fit.
Lucien guided him in anyway, then sealed the chamber.
Condoriano's chest still rose.
The chamber stopped the blood from becoming a river.
Lucien sat cross-legged beside it, and closed his eyes.
He meditated.
Divine energy returned in thin, stubborn trickles.
Soon, footsteps approached.
Anvil-Horn arrived first. His large frame casted a long shadow across fractured streets. He stood still and looked at Starforge.
His face softened. Melancholy passed through him like a wind across old scars.
Then he looked at the survivors gathering behind him. The veterans. The wounded who were still breathing.
His expression steadied.
A slow smile formed.
"Stone can be reforged," Anvil-Horn said quietly. "Breath cannot."
His gaze shifted to Lucien.
