After that moment, the group were relatively silent, looking at the dead Star Prowler on the ground that warped the air, causing it to carry the metallic tang of stellar mana that was sharp and cold against the tongue.
The dead beast lay sprawled among broken roots and scorched moss, its once-glimmering hide dulling rapidly. The constellations crawling across its body dimmed one by one, collapsing into lifeless fur as the stolen light bled back into nothing.
Dorg leaned heavily on his shield, chest heaving. "By the ancestors… that thing hit harder than a siege ram."
Ssil pushed himself off the tree he'd been slammed into earlier, rolling his shoulders with a faint hiss of pain, "My ribs will complain later," he muttered. "But later is acceptable."
Mirela wiped her blade clean again, though this time her movements were much slower and more deliberate. Her gaze kept drifting to Jax, and everyone noticed.
