Soltheia refused to stop, her hands burning with golden green light, pushing the magic deep into Luna's chest. The silver-haired boy was unresponsive. Blood stained his pale face.
"Soltheia, you are draining your core," Catherine warned, placing a gentle hand on her sister's shoulder. "You have to stop. He is stable."
"He is not stable!" Soltheia snapped, tears cutting clean lines through the dirt on her cheeks. "His pulse is barely there. The cosmic energy shredded his nerves. If I stop pushing water mana into his heart, it will stop beating."
Velanor knelt beside her, placing his rough, callused hand over hers. "Princess. Look at him. He is breathing."
Soltheia blinked, her vision blurry. She looked down. Luna's chest was rising and falling in a slow, shallow rhythm. It wasn't perfect, but he was alive. She let out a ragged sob, dropping her glowing hands. She collapsed forward, resting her forehead against his chest.
