Another ragged breath tore through him, a cough raking through his throat, but the air felt like it was made of cement. His body was screaming for oxygen, but it was a scream he couldn't hear anymore.
Sophie.
Her voice again. Weak, fragile. He could hear her—just barely—but he couldn't see her.
He didn't know how much time had passed since the first wave of poison hit them, but it felt like hours. His fingers twitched against the cold floor as if he could somehow will himself to crawl toward her, but his body was too far gone. Every movement felt like an insurmountable task, as if his very cells were rebelling against him.
"Dain…" Her voice again. A faint whisper, but it was enough to bring his head up, to force his eyes to focus on the blurry form of her in the distance.
Her face was pale, her eyes glassy, struggling to stay awake—but still, there she was. She was alive, barely, but alive.
