Battle of Kings
Ramose braved through the shockwave, dodging flying rocks and rubble as he rushed to his mate's side. Her figure was motionlessly sprawled on the ground, bleeding from multiple cuts and scratches that were quickly festering from the residue of the black magic.
"Versailles, are you okay?"
He knelt beside her still form and shifted, the process hurried and disordered. With caution, he gently gathered her in his arms and brushed her hair away from her face.
The pallid complexion and bloodless lips sent his mind spiraling into chaos. Blind with worry, he roughly shook her body, throwing caution to the flames.
"Versailles, Versailles!"
His voice sounded tearful as he hoarsely called out her name. It seemed as if every color and life was drained out of the man as desperation, panic, and pain covered his features.