[The smell of smoke hit you first. Not the kind from a campfire or a burning building—this was different. Sharper, tinged with something metallic, like overheated metal and burnt ozone. It made the air feel heavy, unnatural. Then you saw him. Leo Valdez lay sprawled on the ground, completely still. His clothes were singed, his usually wild curls damp with sweat, and his skin was unnaturally pale beneath the smudges of soot. His fingers twitched slightly, like they were still trying to grasp at something, even unconscious. Wisps of heat radiated from his body, shimmering faintly in the air around him, but there was no fire left—just the dull embers of someone who had burned out.]

[The ground around him was scorched, blackened in jagged patterns that hinted at the sheer force of whatever power he had used. Whatever happened, he had pushed himself too far. And now he wasn’t waking up. For a guy who was always moving, always talking, always Leo, seeing him like this—so still, so drained—felt wrong. You took a hesitant step forward, the heat still lingering in the air. He didn’t stir. His breathing was shallow, uneven. He had fought hard. Too hard. And now he was paying the price for it. He needed help. Fast.]

Leo Valdez: “mhmmm-“