"Draven..." Amberine managed to whisper, her voice barely audible.
"You're not done yet," Draven said, his tone harsh. "Get up."
Amberine's senses slowly returned to her, the ringing in her ears fading as Draven's commanding voice sliced through the haze. The sharpness of his tone, filled with urgency and authority, reignited a spark within her, compelling her to move. She forced herself to sit up, her limbs heavy with exhaustion and pain. Her vision cleared, revealing a scene of chaos and desperation.
Two demons, monstrous and menacing, were held in place by an invisible force. Draven stood at a distance, gripping a pen as if it were a wand, his face twisted in concentration. The strain was evident in his expression, the beads of sweat forming on his brow. The pen in his hand glowed with a faint, eerie light, and the air around him crackled with raw magical energy. Every muscle in his body seemed tense, his left arm trembling slightly from the effort of containing the demons.
