Jeremiah lay motionless on the cold stone floor, his once-mighty aura reduced to a faint, flickering thread of life. The spell Hyna had unleashed was meant to kill Eliana, not to silence him into this terrifying stillness. But magic, when born of desperation, rarely obeys its caster. Hyna knelt beside him, her fingers trembling as she pressed her palms against his chest. Dark runes glowed beneath her skin, crawling up her arms like living ink. "Wake up," she whispered sharply. "Jeremiah… this was not how it was meant to happen." She began chanting again, voice echoing against the chamber walls. The air thickened, smoke curling from the sigils carved into the ground. Her magic lashed outward, searching for the fracture point of her own spell. Nothing. Jeremiah did not stir. His Lyca, powerful, ancient, feared across kingdoms remained sealed beneath layers of enchanted paralysis. The wound at his side, though no longer bleeding, pulsed with corrupted magic that refused to dissol
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