I slumped against the desk, staring at the shop's interface with absolute disbelief.
"That's just cosmic blue-balling at this point," I said, pointing a finger at the interface, "I can't get bloodlines. And I can't even buy time magic with a literal blank-check token."
[I need another cola to soothe my wounded soul.]
So I bought the third can, popped the tab, and took a long, carbonated pull.
The sugar hit helped, but as I let out a sigh, my mind drifted right back to the clearing.
My teeth gritted by themselves, as the phantom sensation of being ripped apart, my bones shattering and knitting back together in a perpetual loop of agony, being beaten within an inch of my life by Arlath, that haze of constant concussions, and the-
I shook my head hard, physically dislodging the thought, and forced myself to focus on the cold, hard why of it all.
