Rafael watched in awe, his trembling hands pressed against the ground as the earth pulsed faintly beneath his palms. The battlefield, scorched and frozen in places, now shimmered with soft green light, roots and flowers sprouting where Glain's power reached. The air felt alive again. Slowly, the wounds on Rafael's arms began to close, warmth spreading through his body.
He turned his head and saw Joe's broken form surrounded by glowing vines that wrapped gently around his limbs, mending torn flesh. A few meters away, Julian's chest rose and fell shallow, but steady as tendrils of nature's energy flowed into him.
Rafael's eyes widened. "..Old man," he whispered. "He's healing us... while fighting?"
The old druid stood alone ahead, his back straight despite the strain, his presence calm amid chaos. The air shimmered around him, heavy with ancient magic.
