A profound quiet descended upon the cavern, broken only by Ash's ragged gasps and the distant, fading hum of the alignment. The tremors subsided, the light in the chamber stabilized, though it retained a faint, unsettling shimmer.
Ash lay prone on the dais, his body shuddering, the blood from his mouth a dark stain on the ice. The raw, agonizing cold that had consumed him retreated, replaced by a deep, bone-weary ache.
Maya rushed to him, dropping to her knees beside the dais. Her hands hovered, uncertain where to touch. "Ash… are you… are you okay?"
Her voice was choked, still thick with tears, but her eyes held a fragile hope.
Ignis strode forward, his pace measured, his molten-gold eyes scanning Ash's battered form. He knelt, his large hand brushing against Ash's forehead.
The dragon-man's touch was surprisingly gentle, a faint warmth radiating from his palm. "He lives," Ignis rumbled, his voice rough with relief. "The Titan bends. The seal holds."
