"Fuck."
The word came out strained rather than sharp, dragged along by the weight pressing down on his chest. The burning man remained on the ground, his back against fractured stone, heat still rising faintly from his skin as if his body had not yet accepted defeat. His grip on the sword, however, remained firm, almost stubborn, as though letting go would mean admitting something he was not ready to face.
His eyes stayed fixed on the castle ahead.
At the center of it, suspended behind a faintly shimmering force field, an orb hovered in complete stillness. It pulsed at a slow, steady rhythm, not bright enough to illuminate its surroundings yet impossible to ignore. There was something deeply unsettling about it, something that seemed to reach beyond sight and settle directly into the mind.
