Izikel's gaze followed the direction the spear had come from, tracking its path through the air until it landed on Sophia.
"Sophia," he breathed out, relief washing over him like a cool breeze on a blistering day.
But that feeling was short-lived.
She wasn't looking at him. Her eyes—focused, unwavering—were locked onto the monster in front of her. The expression she wore was not one of reunion or joy, but one of grim resolve. A soldier preparing to finish a battle.
Izikel's heart dropped as the realization struck him like a hammer: she was going to kill Felvin.
The spear had embedded itself deep into Felvin's monstrous form, the corrupted flesh hissing and writhing around the wound. With a pained groan, he dropped weakly to his knees. Despite the twisted limbs and inhuman shape, it was still him—still Felvin.
"Wait!" Izikel shouted, but Sophia didn't flinch.
