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Turning away from the clearing, Kaelen kept his arm firmly anchored around my waist as we finally made our way into the shaded wooden arches of the medical pavilion.

The air inside smelled heavily of crushed iron-herbs, bitter sap, and old blood.

Tyler leaned heavily against a wooden support beam near the entrance. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his face pale and streaked with dirt. He wasn't getting his own scrapes tended to; his tired, watchful eyes were fixed on the raised slab inside, where two healers hovered frantically over Toren.

"How's the big guy?" I asked softly as Kaelen and I stepped up beside him.

Tyler scrubbed a weary hand over his face, leaving a streak of dark ash across his jaw. His eyes flicked to Toren's form, a heavy, suffocating wave of guilt washing over his features.

"The bleeding is stopped, but..." Tyler swallowed hard, his voice cracking slightly. "The blade went deep into the wrist and forearm. The healers said... they don't know if the nerves will mend. They think he might lose the hand entirely."

He looked down at his own blood-stained palms, his shoulders bowing. "He did it for me. I was pinned, Lyra. Guy almost gets bisected, loses his hand saving my skin, and still tried to mock my muscle mass before he blacked out."

"That is Toren," Kaelen said gently, placing a heavy, reassuring hand on Tyler's shoulder. "He does not yield easily. And he owes you a debt, human. You held your ground when lesser males would have run."

Tyler let out a hollow, breathless laugh and shook his head. "Pretty sure I owe him more. I... I don't know how I'm ever going to square that."

He looked up, his bloodshot eyes meeting mine, and for a terrifying second, I saw the ghost of the cage in his gaze—that hollow, haunted darkness of a man who had spent years expecting to die in the mud. He stared down at his hands, his breathing turning shallow as he began slipping backwards into the nightmare.

"Hey," I murmured, stepping forward and laying my hand gently over his forearm. "Tyler. Look at me."

He snapped out of it, blinking rapidly as his focus sharpened back onto my face.

He swallowed hard, brushing a hand over his face as he forced a tight, dismissive wave. "Sorry. I'm fine—just exhausted, I guess." He paused, offering a weak, deeply emotional smile, his eyes shining with a sudden, overwhelming gratitude. "I never got to say it properly, Lyra. I know you didn't plan on getting dragged into those tunnels... but if you hadn't been captured, if you hadn't fought your way out and blown that place wide open, we would've died down there. You gave us a chance. I wouldn't be breathing if it weren't for you."

"We stick together, Ty," I said softly, squeezing his arm. "Always."

Before he could answer, a hurried commotion sounded behind us.

"Out of my way!" a sharp, familiar voice barked.

Sora came bursting through the pavilion entrance. Her chest armour was battered, bandages wrapped tight around her ribs from the earlier skirmish, and her face was pale with sheer adrenaline. She looked like she had dragged herself here on pure willpower.

"Lyra!" Sora gasped, her eyes locking onto me. "I came as soon as the guards said the ridge collapsed—I tried to get here faster, but⁠—"

She didn't finish. She practically threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around my neck in a tight, desperate hug. I winced slightly at the impact, but hugged her back just as fiercely, feeling her shoulders trembling against me.

She pulled back, her hands cupping my face, her golden eyes frantically checking me over. "You're alive. The bond... we thought you were gone. And your neck⁠—"

"I'm okay, Sora," I reassured her gently, catching her hands. "I'm right here."

Sora let out a shuddering breath and finally lowered her arms. It was then that her eyes landed on Tyler standing right beside us. She stiffened, her gaze narrowing in sudden, wary confusion.

"Another human?" Sora muttered, her hand reflexively hovering near her side-blade. "Since when do we have⁠—"

Her words died in her throat. Her gaze drifted past Tyler, over his shoulder, and straight into the shadowed centre of the pavilion where the healers were working on the slab.

The colour drained completely from her face.

"Toren..." she whispered.

In a fraction of a second, any thought of Tyler, me, or her own cracked ribs vanished. Sora shoved past us, knocking Tyler's shoulder as she sprinted toward the raised platform, her terrified voice echoing off the wooden rafters as she dropped to her knees beside her brother.

Tyler watched her go, rubbing his shoulder as a soft, solemn sigh escaped him. "Yeah," he murmured quietly, watching the sister grip her brother's uninjured hand. "We definitely made it out."

I looked at Tyler's hollow eyes and dirt-caked skin. The man was practically swaying on his feet, holding himself up by sheer willpower..

"Ty, you need to go to the secondary pavilion and get washed up," I said softly, laying a hand on his arm. "Get some food and rest. You’re running on empty."