It hurt.
It really hurt.
Gwen looked down and saw blood pouring from the wound in her side, staining her robes crimson. The strength that had carried her through the battle was slipping away rapidly now, and her vision was beginning to blur around the edges.
Through the haze, she saw the temple standing at the edge of the square. Survivors were still streaming through its doors—civilians, wounded defenders, and the frightened boy she had carried moments ago, now safely pulled from her arms by others and rushed inside.
Safe.
At least they were safe.
She could no longer feel her shoulder. She could no longer feel her back.
And a faint, tired smile touched her lips.
"Will I die here?"
The thought arrived gently, almost kindly.
"Well… I should have died long ago anyway."
