Get up, Elian!
Sarah's voice was a sharp blade cutting through the thick static in his head. She slid down the gravel embankment, her boots kicking up small clouds of gray dust that caught the weak sunlight.
I can not move, Elian whispered, his teeth grinding against the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. My limbs feel like lead. The resonance backfired.
I am not leaving you here, she said, grabbing him by the collar of his worn jacket. She dragged him a few feet, her muscles straining against his weight.
Behind them, the obsidian monster began to stir. The blue sparks on the Curator's visor faded, replaced by the cold, dull blackness of its normal state. It turned its featureless head toward them with terrifying, mechanical precision.
We need to go now, Sarah said, her voice sha
