Vell looked to Sonder.
She didn't see the arc of violet death lancing toward her, not yet. Her eyes were wide with confusion, fear, and trust—trust in him.
And he didn't have a plan.
Not one that would work fast enough. Not one that would save her now.
He drew in a breath and narrowed his focus.
When Vell truly concentrated, when he peeled back the outer layers of perception, time itself seemed to bend. Not stop. Not truly. But slow, as if granting him a moment more to think.
To see.
This wasn't magic. This was him.
His thoughts moved free of the moment, almost detached from the rules of the universe.
He saw the arc of lightning mid-flight. He saw the tension in Sonder's arms as she was just about to raise them.
She didn't know she was about to die a second time.
And he couldn't move fast enough to save her. He couldn't move or cast fast enough to shield her.
But he would be damned if it happened.
So he did something he hadn't done in a long time.
Vell prayed.
Not aloud. Not with ceremony or faith or hope.
But with need.
And that was what the gods truly listened for.
But he couldn't ask them to save her, for she was already a damned soul.
Vell had lived a long time. In that time, he had done much. Terrible things, noble things, things that defied naming.
He had made bargains sealed in blood and sworn unbreakable oaths spoken in dead languages.
And from those countless acts, favors granted, services rendered, and impossible tasks fulfilled, he had earned the notice of beings far beyond mortal reckoning.
And some must still have favored him.
The world held its breath.
And something heard him.
A warmth not of this place settled into his bones, like fire remembered rather than fire present. The ground didn't shake. No light split the sky. But a whisper of a thought came.
"One wish, Dread Mage. One gift, for the service you rendered long ago. What is it, you would ask"?
In his mind, Vell bowed his head low.
And he spoke the words without hesitation:
"Time."
Nothing more was said.
Mid-air, the tendril of violet energy heading for Sonder froze, its jagged path paused between realities.
Around it, destruction hung still: glass shards suspended like stars, fire caught in bloom, screams frozen in the throats of a hundred people who didn't yet know they were dead.
Vell stood.
The wish had been granted.
Not forever.
But a moment.
Now he had to decide what to do with it.
He looked back at Sonder. Her hand was just beginning to rise in defense, useless against what would come.
He could move now.
He could act.