Curtis, Lyra, and Isolde slumped against the corpses of the dead void scorpions, their breaths ragged, their bodies motionless save for the occasional twitch.
Celestina sat with elegant composure atop one of the crystal shards protruding from the fallen shardling giant, her legs crossed as if she were lounging in a garden rather than a battlefield. Her soul armor had dissipated, leaving her in her pristine academy uniform, untouched by dirt or wear—only her face bore the smear of black blood.
The same couldn't be said for the three before her. They lacked soul armor or even the most basic protective gear they could've brought at the start of the void hunting class. Even Isolde, was no exception. Their torn academy uniforms clung to their bloodied bodies—black ichor mixed with their own red.