The Survivor of Judgement

Tenever landed hard, his wards snapping along with several ribs. Struggled, mind blank with pain, under the weight of Ferris' charred and burned body. Pushed and squeezed, wriggled and crawled out from under the remains of a man who had once been a frie-

A hand in his, pulling him up. Not a human hand, though, but the carefully self-adjusting servomotor grip of an elven prosthetic. The fire in his chest and lungs dimmed at a wave from that same hand, which was -

Elven. Eraeon dusted him off, giving him an almost friendly nod. Clapped him on the shoulder and stepped out of the hallucination. Tenever took a half step to follow him -

His booted foot came down on thickly turfed soil, and his startled break from marching pace caused Sadie to turn questioningly. He forcibly relaxed his shoulders; nodded and bumped his rifle twice in affirmation.

Eraeon did not make eye contact, releasing the swirl of counterarcane power he had used to break Tenever out of the psychotropic prison. Quid pro quo, after all.