RAGNA POV...
I looked like a corpse that had been dragged out of a desert grave—no, worse, like someone who had drowned in sand and somehow crawled back out on sheer stubbornness alone. Grit clung to my face, packed into my hair, stuck to my lashes, and scratched against my skin every time I breathed, yet I didn't even have the luxury to wipe it away. There simply wasn't time, and more importantly, there wasn't strength.
I could feel it then—my power leaking out of me drop by drop, like water seeping from a cracked jar no matter how desperately you tried to plug the holes. My limbs felt unbearably heavy, as if someone had poured molten lead into my veins.
