Trust in yourself.
Adam's words echoed in Desmond's mind. But what was there to trust? The Oozebloom Abomination was two whole tiers higher, a sylvan beast whose natural strength and weapons far outmatched him.
Even now, a shudder of wordless horror crept down his spine each time he narrowly dodged roots that gouged the ground. The air thickened with dust and the rotten stench of venom. The barrier Adam had draped over hissed in mad resistance against the spores.
Hopeless.
End the beast? He could barely keep himself alive, his lightning mantle the only spell he could sustain to boost his speed. Yet, something, a disgusting feeling, churned in his gut when he glanced at the beast's jaws closing on Adam.
He pressed his lips into a tight line, brows furrowed in a pained grimace. Adam had it worse. There must be something, anything, he could do to turn the tables.
