When the blinding light finally faded and the battlefield calmed, Isolde found herself lying on the far edge of the chamber. Her ears were still ringing, and her body felt like paper—fragile, trembling, barely holding together. Her HP Bar sat at almost zero, the tiniest sliver of red stubbornly flickering.
She blinked several times before realizing she was no longer where she had been standing moments ago. Someone had moved her—or saved her. The wave of instant death had been seconds away from hitting her, and she knew she had no way to escape on her own.
Her first thought was Ren.
He must have cast a teleportation spell… or moved her with some ability she didn't recognize. It had to be him. There was no other explanation.
Worry filled her chest as she pushed herself up, wobbling unsteadily. She scanned the chaotic battlefield for any sign of him. The room was still smoking from various spells. NPC soldiers groaned in pain. The remnants of ooze sizzled on the floor. But no Ren.
