Claude Is Dead!

Aether blinked, startled that he was still alive. The poisonous land should have killed him instantly, yet by sheer luck, their battle had carried them beyond its deadly reach.

But the reprieve was fleeting. His body felt like it was being crushed under the weight of the deep ocean, every breath a battle against suffocating pain.

He coughed violently, crimson splattering his palm. Yet, when he looked at his hand, his breath hitched. 

It was no longer the youthful, rugged hand he once knew—it was wrinkled, frail, trembling like brittle parchment.

Strands of hair cascaded over his shoulder, and when he caught sight of them, his stomach dropped. They had turned gray.

'I… I overused it…'

Dread washed over him like an unrelenting tide. 

'No… I can't go back to normal now…'

But then, a piercing wail shattered his spiraling thoughts.

"Claude! Please! You are the only one I have!"

"My baby!"