Every nerve in Albedo's body felt like it had been frayed and rewired with fire. His hands trembled as they pressed into the cracked stone, and the metallic taste of blood lingered on his tongue. Even breathing felt like a battle, each inhale shallow, each exhale trembling.
Beside him, Ember lay sprawled, her majestic coat dimmed with soot and blood. Her chest rose and fell slowly, the flames surrounding her body flickering weakly. But she was alive. Still burning. Still with him.
That was enough.
Albedo shifted slowly, groaning as he rolled onto his side and reached for the satchel at his waist. The orb inside pulsed faintly—its light dimmer now, and the cracks spreading like veins across its surface.
"The Leviathan…" Albedo whispered, fingers tightening around the pouch.
There wasn't time to waste.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to his feet, stumbling once before finally steadying himself and walking towards the Black Thunder Pool.
