"Ah… I…"
Lyra's shoulders were trembling.
The moment her power faded, her body dropped down to her knees, hands digging into the dirt.
Blood dripped from her nose, and her face was pale like she'd seen death itself.
Gray walked up to her, quiet as always, and crouched down.
"…Still breathing?" he asked, voice low.
She didn't answer. Her head was down, chest rising and falling in short gasps. She was clearly overwhelmed. Her magic, the fear, the blood, everything finally caught up to her all at once.
So Gray did something unexpected.
He reached out and placed his hand on her head, and patted her lightly just as he used to do to Maelis when he was a child.
"…You didn't die," he said simply.
"That's what matters."
Her shoulders flinched slightly at his touch, but… she didn't pull away.
"I-I almost lost control…" she whispered. "That… wasn't me. I don't… I don't kill people."
"You did," Gray replied without blinking.
"But it's fine. It was either you or them."
