The underground vault of the Golden Coin HQ was usually a place of silence and cold stone. But tonight, it hummed with the sound of mana-welders and the smell of ozone.
In the center of the room, a makeshift operating table had been set up.
Leona sat on the edge, shirtless except for a chest binding, sweating profusely. Her left arm ended in a jagged, blackened stump just below the elbow.
The scars from Valerius's Void Decay looked like charred wood against her skin.
"It itches," Leona grunted, her teeth gritted as Damien applied a numbing salve.
"It feels like ants are eating through my bone."
"That's the phantom limb," Damien said, wiping his hands.
"Your aura still thinks the hand is there. It's trying to push energy into a void."
He stepped back and tapped a large, floating communication crystal hovering over the table.
"Are you seeing this, Prince?"
