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Can’t wait to see what the hell you make us do next. It’s been a good ride.
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Cousland gritted his teeth as he felt blood seeping through his armor, the pain in his side growing unbearable. The battle for Amaranthine raged around him, darkspawn swarming from every direction. There were too many of them, and the weight of fatigue pressed on him with every swing of his sword. He had faced worse, survived against impossible odds, but the pain was spreading now, sapping his strength, threatening to bring him down.
Damn it, he thought. I’ll be damned if I die like this.
He swung his sword again, felling another darkspawn, but his vision was starting to blur at the edges. There were too many, and he could feel the darkspawn blood mixing with his own, the taint mingling with his injury. In the chaos of battle, he didn't notice that the darkspawn nearest to him had suddenly frozen in place. His next swing went wide as his balance faltered, but instead of being overwhelmed, the enemies before him shattered, breaking into a hundred ice-covered pieces.
Aedan blinked, still struggling to stay on his feet, trying to process what had just happened. The blood loss was clouding his mind, and before he could register it, his knees gave out beneath him, sending him toward the ground.
But he didn’t hit the cold, hard earth.
Strong arms caught him, holding him upright before he could collapse. Aedan didn’t need to look to know who it was—he recognized the feeling immediately. There was something about the air around him, the subtle lightness that filled the space like the calm after a storm had passed. He’d felt it before. It was the magic, the presence of Daylen Amell.
He heard someone calling out, “Commander!” Their voice was distant, almost drowned by the sounds of clashing steel and monstrous roars. But Daylen barked an order, commanding the soldiers around them with an authority that cut through the noise. He was always like that in battle—decisive, commanding, never hesitating.
Aedan tried to focus, but the pain was dragging him down, making it hard to think clearly. He felt Daylen’s hand move to his side, gently but quickly moving his own hand away from the wound to assess the damage. The armor there was slick with blood, both Aedan’s and the darkspawn’s, and the edges of his vision darkened for a moment as the pain flared.
“It burns like hell,” Aedan muttered, his voice hoarse. The infection of the taint, the poison of the darkspawn, was spreading through the wound, making it worse with every passing second.
Daylen’s voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it, barely masking his concern. “Hold on, Aedan. I’ve got you.”
The familiar warmth of magic began to surround him, Daylen’s hands glowing with a soft, steady light. Traveling with mages over the years had made Aedan attuned to their magic, but Daylen’s was different. His healing felt… intense, like a wave of water that pushed through his body, drawing away the pain. It was nothing like Wynne’s gentle healing magic, which washed over him like cool water, soothing every ache. Daylen’s magic had an urgency to it, a fierceness that almost took Aedan’s breath away for a moment.
The burning in his side began to lessen as the healing magic closed the worst of the wound. Aedan felt himself breathe a little easier, the pain receding into a dull throb, but he was still weak from the blood loss.
He felt something pressed to his lips, a small bottle, and the unmistakable bitterness of a healing potion followed. Aedan grimaced as the taste hit his tongue, but Daylen’s firm but gentle hand guided him, making sure he drank every drop. The potion worked fast, speeding up the healing already done by magic, and Aedan felt the strength slowly return to his limbs, though exhaustion lingered in his bones.
“Easy,” Daylen said softly, his voice a low murmur close to Aedan’s ear. “The battle’s almost over.”
Aedan blinked, slowly coming back to himself, his vision clearing enough to see the battlefield around them. The darkspawn were retreating, or what was left of them. Backup had arrived, soldiers pouring into the field and overwhelming the remaining monsters. Daylen’s arms were still wrapped around him, holding him upright as the worst of the fighting faded. The chaos was giving way to an uneasy calm, and Aedan could hear the distant shouts of victory as the defenders of Amaranthine gained the upper hand.
Aedan took a deep breath, the sharp scent of blood and burning filling his lungs. The pain was mostly gone now, though the battle had taken its toll.
“Thought I’d lost you there for a second,” Daylen said, his voice light but carrying a seriousness underneath.
Aedan managed a weak smile, his head still spinning. “It’ll take more than a few darkspawn to bring me down,” he replied, though his voice was rougher than he intended.
Daylen’s lips quirked up in a small grin, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t entirely fade. “Don’t get cocky. I’d rather not have to pull your ass out of the fire every time.”
Aedan chuckled softly, wincing slightly at the lingering ache. “And here I thought you liked being my savior.”
Daylen huffed, but there was warmth in his eyes as he helped Aedan to his feet. “Next time, try not to get yourself killed. Makes my job a lot easier.”
As Aedan stood, still leaning on Daylen for support, he glanced around at the battlefield. The soldiers were finishing off the last of the stragglers, and the tide had clearly turned in their favor. Amaranthine was safe—for now.
He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what had just happened. They had won, but it had been close—too close. And once again, Daylen had been there to pull him back from the brink.
“Thanks,” Aedan said quietly, his gaze meeting Daylen’s.
Daylen gave a small nod, his expression softening. “Always.”
The two of them stood together for a moment, the battlefield slowly quieting as the last of the darkspawn were driven away. The city was safe, but there were always more battles to come. They both knew that. But for now, Aedan was alive, and Daylen was by his side, and that was enough.
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