“Nik, stay back. We need you alive, not dead,” Gunnar shouted over his shoulder. The Falkyn balked. “Come again, princeling.” “You’re here to heal this plague, not go to battle.” “Look around you, boy,” Niklas snapped, adjusting the gold rings on his fingers. “We all are doomed for another battle. I was surviving before you took your first breath. Never tell me to stay back from a fight, understand?”
