"Please—help him! Help my friend!!"
Klea's voice cracked with desperation as she raced behind the stretcher team. Chumo's limp body was cradled by a shimmering field of gravity magic, suspended between life and death, or perhaps already beyond. Every step she took echoed like a drumbeat of panic against the cold marble floors of the Olympian medical sanctum.
The room they entered was silent, sterile, and bathed in a dim celestial glow. Three specialists awaited them. One was a master of body reconstruction, another a soul specialist, and the last a grand master alchemist. Each was experienced, but none of them held hope.
The healers moved quickly, slipping Chumo's ravaged body into a suspended crystal healing tube. Runes flared. The liquid around him shimmered into motion. A full diagnostic began.
The monitors blinked. Then fell flat.
No heartbeat.
No soul resonance.
No life force detected.
