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"Evacuate to the lower floors!" a messenger ran through the halls past the one they're in. Nyxis looked up from binding a cursed arm and glanced at Dalan. "What does that mean?"
"The upper floors are compromised," Dalan's expression was grim. "We must work to relocate the healing hall."
"What floor are we on?" Nyxis looked at the wounded stashed in the room. There were at least a thousand now.
Dalan glanced at the ceiling, making Nyxis do the same. Wait, was the ceiling shaking? "The one-hundred and thirtieth," came the healer's answer.
Nyxis's stomach churned. "And the enemy?"
Dalan rolled a shoulder. "How should I know?"
Nyxis returned his gaze to the number of wounded soldiers lying in beds either sleeping or staring aimlessly at the flat ceiling. How in Umazure could the two of them carry these soldiers? To what floor, even? Even if the doors could be considered as teleporters, they couldn't possibly drag each one through without using up too much time.
Some injuries even prohibit the person from moving at all. How...?
The doors to the healing hall shimmered and General Craleth burst out. Panic was evident in his eyes as he looked around at the whole space. He seemed at a loss for words. That's when Nyxis noticed the blood running down the side of the General's head with an almost familiar shrapnel jutting from his scalp. That's...
"What is the state on the upper floors, General?" Dalan jogged to meet the General halfway. The ceiling shook again. A few ice shards broke free and rained on Nyxis.
General Craleth took one look at Nyxis then at Dalan. "You are the upper floors now," he rasped before his legs gave way. Dalan had been too late as he lunged in an attempt to catch the falling ice sprite.
General Craleth exploded into a million shards before he even hit the floor.
Silence filled the hall. A cloud of doom settled on everyone. Nyxis didn't know how long the General had been lugging that injury but from how it looked, it seemed the shrapnel pierced some important organs. It wouldn't be too long anyway.
You are the upper floors now. Those were the General's last words. Did that mean...?
Gods.
The ceiling creaked and cracked. It shattered with a sound too crisp in Nyxis's ears. By instinct, Nyxis crossed his arms at his face to defend himself. A shield spell leaped out of his mouth before he could stop it. An explosion rang in his ears—a sound all too familiar to him.
It took him back to his mother's tower and showed him the face of the last person she killed. Only one weapon was capable of doing this. Flintlocks. Only they weren't as small as a hand anymore.
A black-clad soldier dropped from the hole in the ceiling, took one look at him, and pointed a long-barreled weapon at him. Nyxis raised his hands. He cast a look at Dalan who stood with shaking legs from the pile of ice shards that used to be General Craleth. The soldier seemed to see Nyxis's action because the barrel shifted its position towards the ice sprite healer.
