Simon left Zarven above the western shelters and flew toward the southern battlements.
Veyra hadn't moved. She was still kneeling beside Torvek's body with her hand pressed against his chest, as though she were waiting for his heart to beat again.
Simon landed a few steps away, but before he could speak, the sea below the battlements churned.
A hand slapped onto the edge of the stone.
Rasken dragged himself over the battlements with his only arm and collapsed onto his back. Seawater streamed from his body, and his breathing was ragged and wet.
In the center of his chest was a black handprint. Thin grey veins spread outward from it beneath his dark-red skin, and his ribs had caved inward beneath the mark.
Simon frowned.
It was the same aura of death he had sensed from the corpse earlier.
'It's stopping his body from healing.'
Rasken tried to sit up. Halfway, his face twisted and he coughed out a mouthful of blood.
