Jason lowered his hand.
The last of the minions collapsed, its body dissolving into black ichor that seeped into the grey soil. The rain continued to fall, washing the blood from the stone, but Jason remained dry beneath his wooden umbrella.
The dome around Ylva and Mae did not let up.
Ylva pressed her face against the gap, her claws scraping against the wood. "Jason! The fight is over! Let us out!"
Jason did not turn around. "No."
"What do you mean, no?!" Mae's voice was sharp, edged with frustration. "We can help you!"
Jason's smile was cold. "You would hold me back. You saw what I did here. This was effortless. If I need to move fast, to act without hesitation, I cannot be worrying about protecting you."
Ylva's ears flattened. Her jaw tightened. She wanted to argue, wanted to scream that she was not weak, that she could fight alongside him.
But she could not because he was right.
