Ezekiel let out a sigh so dramatic it could've won an award. He stared at the tiny flicker of flame on his palm as it did its best impression of a dying candle. Then gone. Just like his motivation.
His body felt heavier than usual, limbs aching from overuse, and his eyes stung from staying open too long. He hadn't slept in what felt like a week—maybe more. Time blurred together now.
He tried to summon another wisp, just a small one, just enough to send a message to Silvermist that her request in meeting Frost has been declined. Sad, but anyway.
Ezekiel swore he heard her internal turmoil scream when smoke appeared on his palm instead. His mana was completely gone, drained from the endless spells, fights, and flaming cushion he'd thrown up just to get them all through the last 48 hours alive. And still, there was more to do the moment they got back.
