Outside the cave, there was complete silence… but inside, a different kind of battle was raging. Kyle lay on a cold stone slab, his body still as cold as ice. Lyra sat beside him, both her hands hovering a few inches above his chest. A golden light flowed from her palms into his body—but this healing… was not normal.
As Lyra increased the flow of her power, she felt it—the shadow of Draken within Kyle had awakened. The corruption wasn't accepting her light… it was devouring it like a starving beast. "So… so much hunger?" Lyra's voice trembled. Thick beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and her breathing grew uneven.
Normally, healing a wound only cost her 5–10% of her power… but Kyle's body felt like a bottomless abyss. She could feel her mana being pulled straight from her veins into him. Darkness crept into her vision, as if something was draining the very blood from her body.
Her hands began to tremble. 50%… 60%… and then 65% of her magical energy vanished in mere moments. Her face turned pale, her lips slightly blue… but she didn't pull her hands back. She knew—if she stopped now, Kyle's heart would stop beating.
"Just… a little more…" she whispered to herself, her teeth chattering.
Then suddenly—
A low hum echoed from Kyle's body, like a sleeping demon taking a deep breath. The Draken corruption calmed down, and Lyra's power finally began to repair his damaged body.
As balance was restored, Lyra's body gave in. She collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath. Her vision blurred.
With trembling fingers, she checked Kyle's pulse. He was still unconscious… but no longer on the brink of death. Lyra let out a long, heavy breath. Her entire body felt broken. She looked at Kyle—the boy who carried Draken's power had drained even a powerful healer like her to the edge.
At that moment, heavy footsteps echoed at the cave entrance. Grommash and Arin had returned, fresh blood stains still marking their clothes.
"What happened to her?" Grommash asked, lowering his axe as he saw Lyra's condition. His voice carried that same rough concern.
Lyra tried to stand, but her legs refused. "He… he's stable now. But his power… it's not normal. He drained 65% of my energy." She took a deep breath. "For the next two or three days… he'll remain like this. His body needs time to absorb this energy."
Arin carefully observed Kyle, then looked at Lyra—who, despite being on the verge of collapse, was still worried about him. The torchlight danced across the cave walls, and Lyra's sacrifice was enough to begin melting the ice within Arin's heart.
The cold air inside the cave now pierced Lyra's bones. She had poured nearly all her strength into saving Kyle… but her work wasn't finished yet. Her eyes moved—Arin's arm was bleeding, and Grommash's shoulder bore deep marks from the scouts' poisoned daggers.
Lyra tried to stand again, using the wall for support. Her legs trembled.
"Sit down, white-robed one," Grommash growled, though the hatred in his voice had faded. "You look like a corpse yourself. Save your magic… you might need it later."
Lyra gave a faint smile and picked up her healing staff. "A healer… never leaves her companions in pain, Grommash. Even if she herself is in pain."
She extended her hand. A dim golden light emerged—not as strong as before, as barely 10% of her mana remained. She first placed her hand over Arin's wound.
Arin froze for a moment, her fingers still tight around her bow… but the sincerity in Lyra's eyes made her stop resisting.
As the light touched her wound, a soothing warmth spread through her body. The pain faded, and the torn flesh slowly began to mend. Arin took a deep breath… and for the first time, a faint hint of respect appeared in her sharp eyes.
"Thank you…" she whispered softly, as if saying those words was the hardest thing for her.
Lyra simply nodded and moved toward Grommash. Healing his massive body was harder, but she used whatever strength she had left to draw out the poison from his shoulder. The darkened wound slowly returned to normal.
The moment she pulled her hand away—
She collapsed completely. Falling to her knees, her staff slipped from her hand and clattered against the stone. Her breathing was heavy, her face drenched in sweat.
Grommash quickly caught her with his strong arms, preventing her from falling. He looked at her—the one who had completely drained herself to save them all.
For an orc, strength meant everything… and today, he had witnessed a different kind of strength in Lyra's "fragile" magic.
"You're insane," Grommash muttered, his voice low—but there was a strange warmth in it. "But now I understand… why Kyle trusted you."
Arin stepped closer and handed Lyra a water flask from her waist. "Let your strength recover. We'll keep watch. You're not prey of Umbra anymore… you're part of this team now."
Lyra took a small sip and looked at Kyle, still lost in deep unconsciousness. The torchlight inside the cave had steadied now. The first brick of trust—once broken—had finally been laid again.
But they all knew… beyond the fog, the shadows of the Umbra Conclave were still searching for them.
Outside, the fog had turned into a flurry of snow. Inside the cave, Lyra and Arin sat beside Kyle, while Grommash stood at the entrance, staring into the dark valleys beyond. His senses were still searching for danger in the air.
"You two stay here," Grommash said in his heavy voice, without turning back. "Lyra needs rest… and Kyle's body is starving. If he wakes up with an empty stomach, Draken's corruption will consume him from within."
"It's not safe to go out right now, Grommash," Arin warned, her fingers still close to her bow. "The scouts may be dead… but their absence will be noticed."
Grommash let out a rough chuckle. "An orc is not easy to hunt in the dark, girl. I am the hunter… not the prey."
With that, he rested his axe on his shoulder and disappeared into the fog. He knew how difficult it was to find food in such a frozen land… but he trusted his survival instincts completely.
Moving like a shadow between icy rocks, he lit no fire, made no sound.
After nearly an hour, he returned. A thin layer of snow covered his massive body—but his hands were not empty. He carried a wild mountain stag over his shoulder. In his other hand, he held wild roots and dry nuts he had gathered from cracks in the rocks.
"Here," he said, dropping the stag into a corner of the cave. Warm steam escaped from his breath. "This meat will restore Lyra's strength… and for Kyle, we'll make soup. He'll need liquid food when he wakes."
Lyra looked at him in surprise. She had never imagined an orc could think and prepare with such precision.
Grommash silently cut the meat into pieces and lit a small, controlled fire—so small that no smoke would escape the cave. He used a deep stone as a vessel, melting snow and preparing an extract from the roots and meat.
"In orc tribes," he said quietly, his eyes reflecting the flames, "this is how we keep weak children alive. Kyle is in the same state. His body is fighting… we just need to give it fuel."
Arin glanced at Grommash. She realized—he wasn't just the "muscle" of the team… he was their foundation. His experience and wisdom were what could lead them out of this hell.
Night deepened. Lyra and Arin ate a little meat, warmth slowly returning to their bodies. Grommash carefully poured a few drops of warm soup onto Kyle's lips. Even in unconsciousness, Kyle stirred slightly… as if his body was absorbing the nourishment.
Outside, a snowstorm had begun. But inside the cave, around that small fire… three different souls were slowly binding together into one unbreakable thread.
Cliffhanger:–
The warmth of the fire and the aroma of soup brought a brief moment of peace… but is this the calm before the storm? Kyle's body has begun to respond—but when his eyes open, will he still be the same Kyle that Grommash and Arin knew?
Beyond the fog, something is approaching… something no one has sensed yet. What will happen when Umbra strikes again at th
ese exhausted warriors? And the biggest question—will this team survive its first true test?