They're still not here! Are they already dead?

  My pulse raced in my ears, each beat louder than the last.

  Then, with a heavy thud that rattled the air, Desmond and Eli fell onto the carpet in front of the kitchen. Dust burst upward, glittering faintly in the slanted light. Desmond landed on his feet but stumbled, gasping for air, his shirt speckled with snow. He was fine, but breathing hard enough.

  Eli wasn’t as lucky. His leg was twisted, a swollen mass of torn skin and bone jutting where it shouldn’t. Not just broken. Mangled was the better term. The kind of injury that made your stomach lurch just looking at it. Bruises spread up his arms like black veins, and his fingers twitched weakly as if refusing to accept the damage.

  Mary gasped and ran over. Her book flew open in her hands, pages glowing faintly as she skidded to Eli’s side. Her hair stuck to her face with sweat and panic.

  Sosuke glanced back, his eyes flicking briefly toward the injured pair before settling on me. A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “See? Trust.”

  Isabella and I rushed to Desmond the moment the air settled. His clothes were dusted with frost, and his beard glistened faintly from the lingering snow. We tried to hug him, desperate for some reassurance, but he waved us off with a tired hand.

  "I'm fine." he muttered. His voice was shaky, low. "Just a bit cold."

  Eli groaned on the floor nearby. He was conscious—barely. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. Blood still clung to the edges of his lips. He managed to rasp out, "You bastard... you did this..."

  Huh? Blaming Desmond? For what—being a support?

  I couldn’t stop myself from yelling. "It’s not his fault he’s a support! He can’t do anything against such a monster!" My words came out sharp, echoing against the wood-paneled walls.

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  Mary didn’t look up. She snapped her fingers.

  "Heal."

  A pale glow spilled from her open book, spreading across Eli’s body. He flinched violently as tendons began to stitch and bone realigned with sickening cracks. Even with magic, the process looked unbearable. His jaw clenched tight, breath ragged. The healing pain was less than before, sure—but only a quarter less of agony was still agony.

  Desmond exhaled slowly. The sound was heavy. He stared down at his gloved hands.

  "He’s right." he said softly. "I did that to him. It was all me."

  Sosuke, who had been leaning lazily on the couch, tilted his head. For the first time, he looked genuinely puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

  Maya snorted, folding her arms. "Clarify, you old coot."

  Eli’s glare sharpened through the pain, full of hatred and betrayal. His lips trembled as if daring Desmond to lie.

  Desmond straightened his back, the exhaustion in his eyes deepening. "I used a skill to force his skill—Jet Arrow," he admitted. His tone cracked slightly at the end. "We were going to die. You have to understand. Jet Arrow was the only attack that could save us."

  Eli coughed, spitting blood onto the carpet. The healing had restored his leg, but not his pride.

  He turned his head and spat again, this time squarely at Desmond. The blood splattered across Desmond’s clerical suit, a dark, accusing stain. "It wasn’t your decision to make."

  Sosuke took a slow sip from his soda, unfazed by the tension. "It was." he said bluntly. "He made the right call. Hate him all you want, but you’d be dead without him."

  Mei nodded, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "You should’ve been able to beat the yeti yourself, Eli. Blame your own weakness. In my family, that kind of failure wouldn’t go unpunished."

  Her words hit hard, but Desmond didn’t respond. His gaze was distant, lost somewhere deep within the memory of that fight.

  I didn’t know what to feel. Desmond had always been a rock of morality—stern, disciplined, but kind. He fought monsters, not people. Yet now... he’d crossed a line none of us thought he ever would.

  Desmond finally spoke again, his voice quieter. "This tower… it’s taking too much from us. We’re starting to question whether hurting each other is justified just to survive. If I died, so be it. I’d meet the Lord again. But..."

  He trailed off, shaking his head. He turned and walked past me. His steps were heavy, but it wasn't from his large frame. As he moved toward the stairs, I caught the glint of a tear sliding down his cheek.

  "I’m going to my room." he said, not looking back. "I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me, Eli."

  I reached out and caught his shoulder for a moment. His body was trembling beneath the fabric. He didn’t turn; he simply shrugged off my hand and continued up the stairs.

  It was a cold situation, despite us not being in that frostland anymore.

  I guess what he did was right… but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.