The Arm Solar Took

Solar turned the rescue into a running wound.

Goblins entered from side passages with more bombs, dragging the fight back toward the forge hall and the side rooms the party had only just cleared. Maine was down. Dhaz moved anyway, dragging him out of a blast radius before the next explosion could make the temple decide for them.

For a moment, it looked like the party might pin Solar in place.

Ash reached him and hit hard, tearing into feathers and footing with the kind of flurry that should have mattered. It did matter. Just not enough. Solar fought as if the normal rules of distance were suggestions written for slower bodies. Every time the party tried to make the fight hold still, he found another angle.

Then he chose Dhaz.

Solar struck him down, drove a blade into his remaining organic arm, and used his speed as the rest of the attack. He yanked as he vanished, turning movement into violence until Dhaz was left on the temple floor with the arm gone and the speedster already out of reach.

It was not only a wound. It was a theft.

Solar had taken a trophy, proof that Evil could hurt the party in ways healing magic could not immediately erase. Dhaz had already lived with a body remade by damage and replacement. Now the temple had taken the part of him that was still flesh.

The bombers could be killed. The workshop could be cleared. Solar was different.

He left the room with Dhaz's arm and with the party's certainty behind him.