Azryth was losing.
Not the fight. The fight was going exactly as he'd planned, the spectral blade cutting through Veyrith's shadows in ways his fire alone never could, every strike landing with precision born from five hundred years of necessity.
But Riven was dying.
He felt it through the binding, every moment of agony as Riven channeled power that was tearing him apart from the inside. The warden seal cracking, body systems failing one by one, vision going dark.
Azryth pressed the attack harder, fire blazing brighter, the spectral blade moving faster.
Veyrith blocked and countered, shadows manifesting despite the wounds bleeding amber light across his chest and arms and legs. "You're distracted, brother. Not like you."
"Shut up," Azryth said, blade cutting through a tendril aimed at his throat.
"It's the warden, isn't it?" Veyrith's smile widened. "You can feel what's happening to him. The entity is eating him alive, using him as fuel."
