The acidic fog had finally begun to dissipate, its sickly yellow tendrils unraveling into the air, thinning with every passing second. What had once been a suffocating wall of poison was now little more than a wispy haze, revealing the scene beyond. The air still carried the acrid scent of corrosion, but it no longer burned to breathe.

  The moment she saw the shifting outlines through the lifting mist, she broke into a sprint, her heart hammering against her ribs. Monsoon was already ahead of her, his paws kicking up loose dirt as he bounded forward, his sleek blue fur bristling with worry. He moved in a blur, driven by instinct, his nose twitching as he sought out Jack’s scent amid the lingering poison.

  As they ran forward, she noted that Tanner was hanging back uncertainly. She couldn’t really blame him. He didn’t know any of them well and was probably very confused as to what was going on.

  When Lyla finally reached the edge of the Pool of Purity, her breath hitched at the sight before her.

  Jack was slumped on the damp ground, his body heaving with exhaustion, his arms still loosely wrapped around Cael’s unconscious form. His armor and clothes were tattered, his skin raw in places where the acid had touched him, but he was alive. The same couldn’t be said for his energy—he looked completely spent, as if the very life had been wrung from him.

  “Jack!” Lyla called out, dropping to her knees beside him. Her hands hovered over him, unsure where to start. The burns? The sheer exhaustion weighing him down? Or the frantic pulse she could see hammering at the base of his throat?

  Monsoon whined and nosed at Jack’s shoulder, the wolf’s eyes wide with concern. He licked at Jack’s cheek, then nudged him more forcefully when he didn’t respond right away.

  Jack let out a weak groan, shifting slightly beneath Monsoon’s insistent prodding. “I’m alright… relax…” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it carried enough of his usual resilience that some of the tension in Lyla’s chest loosened.

  “You don’t look alright,” she shot back, her tone sharper than intended. The fear still lingered in her bones, making her words come out more cutting than she meant them to. She softened, exhaling as she pressed a hand against his forehead. Too warm. “Idiot, you went straight through the acid, didn’t you?”

  Jack gave a slow, tired nod. “Had to… no choice.”

  Monsoon gave a low rumble in his throat, his ears flattening against his head. He pressed against Jack’s side, as if trying to physically prop him up. The wolf had always been expressive, but now, his worry was almost tangible. His normally bright, keen eyes were clouded with distress, his tail held low as he let out another small, anxious whine.

  “I know, buddy,” Jack murmured, weakly lifting a hand to rest it against the Wavewolfs head. “I’m okay.”

  Monsoon huffed, clearly unconvinced, and pressed even closer.

  Lyla shifted her focus to Cael. The goblin lay beside Jack, his small chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. His body was whole again—no grotesque mutations, no sign of the insectoid horror he had briefly become. His skin was pale, his features drawn with exhaustion, but he was alive.

  “What happened?” Lyla asked, glancing between the two of them. “One second you were running straight into death, and now Cael’s back to normal?”

  Jack let out a ragged breath, rubbing a hand down his face. “The pool… purified him. Forced the corruption out.” He let his head fall back against the ground, his eyes slipping shut. “It worked. Barely.”

  Lyla scanned him for any serious injuries beyond the acid burns and the sheer level of fatigue he was drowning in. His hands were scraped and raw, his knuckles bruised—likely from the chest compressions he’d been doing on Cael. The thought sent another pang through her.

  “He wasn’t breathing, was he?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

  Jack hesitated, then shook his head. “Not at first.”

  She swallowed. She’d seen plenty of close calls before, but the thought of Cael—of any of them—being lost like that… it sent a cold shiver down her spine. She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. They were alive. That was what mattered.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Monsoon, growing impatient with Jack’s stillness, nudged at his arm again, then licked at the burns on his exposed skin. Jack flinched but didn’t pull away, though he did crack an eye open to give the wolf a tired look. “That’s not helping, you know.”

  The blue wolf huffed again, his tail flicking with frustration. He circled Jack once before settling down beside him, pressing his warmth against him as if trying to shield him from further harm.

  Finally, Lyla seemed to accept that he was okay if not exactly in peak condition. The Scraeling shook her head, half in exasperation, half in relief. “You really scared us, you know.”

  Jack sighed, shifting slightly to glance over at her. “Didn’t have time to think about it.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, I figured.”

  She knelt beside Jack, her hands already glowing with the soft, golden shimmer of her healing magic. Her face was tight with concern, her eyes scanning his body for wounds, though he could already feel the bruises forming beneath his battered armor. The acidic mist had left burns along his exposed skin, and exhaustion weighed down every fiber of his being. He had pushed himself to the brink—no, beyond it. And Lyla knew it.

  “Hold still,” she murmured, already reaching for him.

  But Jack caught her wrist before she could place her hand on his chest. His grip was weak, but his intent was firm.

  “Not me,” he said hoarsely, shaking his head. “Goldeyes first.”

  Lyla blinked, confused. “Jack, you’re—”

  “Goldeyes,” he insisted, forcing himself to sit up despite the searing pain in his limbs. He turned his head towards where his white wolf Companion lay in the grass, barely moving. The great beast’s fur, usually pristine and gleaming, was matted with scorch marks and patches of raw, burned flesh. Even as Jack reached out mentally, he felt the wolf’s pain, a dull, aching throb radiating through their bond.

  I am here, Jack sent through their link. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.

  Goldeyes’ response was sluggish, his thoughts clouded with discomfort. Still… alive. A brief pause. Not… pleasant.

  A weak chuckle escaped Jack’s lips. Yeah, no kidding.

  Lyla followed his gaze and sucked in a sharp breath when she saw the wolf’s condition. “I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I didn’t—Jack, I didn’t realize.”

  Jack exhaled slowly, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “He took the worst of it. That clear acid… it got him bad. He needs help more than I do.”

  For a second, Lyla hesitated. Jack could see the war in her eyes—her healer’s instinct telling her to tend to him first, her worry clashing with her logic. But then, with a firm nod, she turned to Goldeyes and moved quickly to his side, her hands already gathering the light of her magic once more.

  Goldeyes flicked an ear at her approach, lifting his head just slightly before letting it drop back down with a huff. Small one… is good at fixing? he asked weakly.

  Jack gave a weary smile. Yeah. She’s the best we’ve got.

  Lyla placed her hands gently on the wolf’s massive side, careful to avoid the worst of the burns. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath, and then released it slowly as she called forth her magic. The golden glow spread from her fingers, seeping into Goldeyes’ wounded flesh.

  A shudder passed through the wolf’s body, and Jack felt the rush of sensations through their bond—first the sharp sting of the healing magic as it interacted with the damaged tissue, then a soothing warmth, like a gentle tide washing away the pain.

  Goldeyes let out a long, low exhale, his body relaxing beneath Lyla’s touch. Strange… he mused, his thoughts coming a little clearer now. Like… sun on fur… but inside.

  Jack smirked. That’s healing for you.

  The burned patches of skin began to knit together, the raw, exposed flesh gradually smoothing over as the magic worked. The charred fur wouldn’t regrow immediately, but the worst of the damage was fading before Jack’s eyes. Goldeyes’ breathing, which had been ragged and uneven, steadied. His muscles loosened, the tension draining from his frame.

  Lyla remained focused, her brows furrowed in concentration. Sweat beaded at her temples. Even though she made healing look effortless, Jack knew it took a toll on her.

  A few minutes passed before she finally exhaled and sat back, rubbing at her temples. “That should hold,” she said, her voice slightly strained. “He’ll need rest, but he’ll be okay.”

  Goldeyes lifted his head fully now, golden eyes locking onto Lyla. He gave a slow, deliberate blink—his way of expressing gratitude. Then he turned to Jack, his mental voice steadier than before. Still alive. Not so bad.

  Jack chuckled. You’re a tough one.

  The wolf let out a low rumble, something between a sigh and a tired growl. You… stink of pain.

  Gee, thanks.

  Goldeyes huffed. Let the small one fix you too. You are no use broken.

  Lyla nodded in agreement, already shifting back toward Jack. “He’s right, you know. Now it’s your turn.”

  Jack hesitated, glancing between her and Goldeyes. The wolf was better now, but Jack could still feel the phantom echoes of his pain through their bond. He had been too close to losing him. Too close to losing too much.

  Don’t be stubborn, Goldeyes grumbled. If you die, who will I complain to?

  Jack sighed and relented. “Fine. But just a little. Don’t strain yourself.”

  Lyla rolled her eyes. “I’ll decide how much healing you need.”

  As she placed her hands on him, the golden glow returning, Jack finally allowed himself to relax.

  As the magic flowed through him, soothing his pain, his exhaustion caught up with him and before he knew it, sleep claimed him.