Tiny sprouts pushed through the cracks in the broken road, and vines wove through the debris, pulsing with his mana.
The blood pooled around her reversed its course, flowing back into her wounds as they sealed shut. Her torn skin mended seamlessly, and warmth spread through her body as strength returned to her limbs.
Anya took a slow, steady breath as she felt the pain fade away.
Slowly, she pushed herself up, marveling at the sheer effectiveness of the healing. She glanced at Silvyr, her brow slightly raised.
"Another one of Alister's dragons—why is this one so little?" she asked.
Silvyr frowned, puffing up slightly. "I don't like it when humans call me 'little,'" he grumbled, crossing his arms. "I'm old enough to be like an ancestor to you."
Before Anya could respond, the sudden screeching of tires echoed through the air. In the distance, several sleek, armored vehicles came to an abrupt stop.
The doors burst open, and Union officials poured out, their weapons already drawn.
