The sudden, absolute silence of the Dread Peaks was somehow more unsettling than the static’s screaming had been. The intense magical pressure had lifted, replaced by the normal, biting chill of the mountain air. I remained on my hands and knees, feeling the jagged ice beneath me. My armor was visibly scarred, eaten away at in some spots. The magical gambeson beneath felt thin and useless.
Torian was beside me instantly, ignoring Faelar’s warnings as he pulled me against him. “Anya! Anya! Look at me!” he commanded. His voice was raw, mixed with lingering terror and relief that I appeared to be okay. His lavender eyes scanned my face, checking for any sign of visible injury.
“I’m…I’m fine,” I managed, my voice a painful rasp. The pain in my chest was dull, deep, and familiar. I was exha
