Warmth

Darkness, complete and absolute, shrouded his vision. Atticus found himself trapped in this void once more, a sense of déjà vu washing over him.

'Not this again,' Atticus thought, a hint of frustration creeping in as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

'Am I back in the life weapon?' He pondered. This was exactly what happened the last time he was knocked out 

As if in response to his inner turmoil, the suffocating darkness slowly began to recede, revealing a scene that immediately gripped his heart in a vise. 

Before him, Ronad stood with his completely charred blacken skin, a chilling grin etched upon his face. He held a gleaming sword dangerously close to Ember's delicate neck.

Atticus' voice cracked as he shouted, "No!" His legs carried him forward, but no matter how he sprinted, the gap between him and the duo seemed to expand.

And then, without hesitation, the sword descended.