Deanira grasped onto her long, flowing robes and hurried down the hall; her soft soled shoes making barely a sound on the polished stone temple floor.
She had heard the loud crash of the temple doors fly open. This only ever meant one thing; someone needed help.
She turned the corner and her eyes widened as she saw two men carrying who she assumed was a comrade. Quickly, she pulled her hair back and tied it onto a loose ponytail and let it fall behind her back.
There was blood, and it didn't look good. She could sense from afar he was still breathing, and she closed her eyes as she felt his pulse beat in her mind. As she attuned herself to him, she gave the men a simple command, "Place him on the table."
Pursing her lips, she bowed her head and made her way over to the table. The man's
