Eloy's HUD pinged. The seventeen white pips of the sentinel ring remained at thirty kilometers. Unmoving. Waiting. The golden quest thread toward the Hero's Sanctum pulsed once, distant and south.
[ SURVIVAL MODE — TIMER: 13 DAYS, 4 HOURS ]
He turned. Isolde was still half-sitting in the debris, one knee on the stone, the other leg bent at an angle that didn't look intentional. His hands found her knee before his brain caught up.
The dislocation was visible through her torn trouser leg, a wrong angle that made his stomach do something he refused to name. She was breathing in those shallow, counted intervals he recognized from speedrun resets. Counting breaths because counting meant control.
"Don't move."
She didn't answer. Her lips were pressed together, bloodless, the way someone looks when they're allocating every scrap of energy to staying conscious.
His HUD flickered. Still glitching from the resonance staves, input lag making the overlay stutter before it stabilized.
