The double doors still hung crookedly on their hinges, though they were splintered and burnt past all recognition. Shadows seemed to be rushing through the gaping frame, and Sparrow wondered if Neddryn had done the right thing. She could just trace the blast marks in the floor and walls, and though she had seen the fire spread down the hall and engulf the captain, they had only extended a few inches into Sirillon’s throne room up ahead.
As if something had hungrily gobbled the flames up before they could get any further inside...
Sweat dripped from her eyebrows, as the shield Neddryn had magicked over her began to fail, and the blast’s after-heat made itself felt. Sparrow willed herself not to look behind her as she stepped forward, telling herself she did not want to confirm whether Neddryn was a pile of ash or had managed to worm his way out of yet another tight space, as the Ghost had been famed for doing. She had a job to do, and Neddryn...Sparrow swallowed, blinking hastily so her suddenly watery eyes didn’t blur her sight.
The captain had sacrificed himself for her. Sparrow took a shuddering breath. She was not going to dishonor that. Not ever.
Sparrow stepped forward.