“Aysen, what happened?” Sora asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.
“He…had a knife,” Aysen coughed again.

Sora felt her heart turn a cartwheel. Her grip tightened.

Goddammit, if I could only see! she whimpered inside her head.

“You have to be my eyes,” she whispered, and felt Aysen tense in surprise. “Guide me out of here with your vision. I’ll help you up.”

“Keep walking,” he instructed, keeping his voice down. “You’ll come to stairs in a few seconds; watch your step.”

And so she did. They continued until Sora had to push the gravestone out of the way, and they were finally outside. Sora felt a cool breeze on her face.
“What time is it?”
“It’s night,” Aysen answered, taking a sharp intake of breath as his wound was strained.

Sora turned to him.
“Don’t worry about it,” Aysen grunted. “It’ll be healed in twenty four hours at least.”

It took him a while to register Sora crying.