The tension in the armored vehicle had settled into something heavier—anticipation, focus, the kind of quiet before a storm.
I kept my eyes on Amir. He hadn't complained once about his arm, but I wasn't stupid. It wasn't just a fracture—it was broken, and a broken limb on the battlefield was a death sentence.
Ingrid must've thought the same, because before I could say anything, she reached out, pressing a firm hand against his arm.
"Don't move," she ordered.
Amir opened his mouth to argue, but a sharp jolt of essence crackled through the space, cutting him off. The air around us shifted, thickening as Ingrid activated her domain. It wasn't just the usual enhancement most Level 1s had—it was a controlled manipulation of essence itself.
A faint, almost translucent glow spread from her fingertips, sinking into Amir's skin. His entire body stiffened as his arm twitched, bones and muscle knitting back together at an accelerated rate. I could feel it—her domain wasn't just brute force. It was precision. Calculated.
A second later, she pulled back, her breathing steady despite the strain.
"That's the best I can do without taking too much time," she said, flexing her fingers as if shaking off the remnants of the technique. "You can use it, but don't push it."
Amir flexed his fingers experimentally, then clenched his fist. "Feels solid."
I raised an eyebrow. "It won't be if you do something stupid."
He smirked. "When have I ever done something stupid?"
I ignored that.
Kieran, who had been watching the whole thing with his usual lazy amusement, stretched his arms above his head. "Alright, now that the miracle healing is done, are we finally pulling up? Or do we need a group hug first?"
I sighed and turned back toward the window. The clan's base was just up ahead.
We were finally here.