The corridor stank of rust and ozone. A jagged barricade of collapsed piping and steel walls cradled the wounded group—Izari, Lorian, Rona, and Cassia—trapped in the open, backs to the cold metal.
Figures emerged from the haze like reapers in armor. Both Amara and Tamisra fanned out with machine precision, weapons up, enclosing the survivors in a crescent of death.
Amara herself strode like a queen across a battlefield, the tip of her curved blade dragging behind her with a long, metallic scream. Her lip curled as she locked eyes with Izari.
"Well, well. Still breathing, mutt?"
Behind her, the Seer—a towering figure watched without a word, arms crossed. His presence gave the moment the feel of a ritual. Judgment. Execution.
Izari opened his mouth to answer, but Amara was already moving.
A blur. A whistle of steel. Pain exploded in his side as her blade kissed his flesh, precise, cruel, and just knocking him back.
Izari stumbled, his powers sputtering like a failing circuit. Something in the there… it interfered, disrupted him.
Lorian raised a glowing red tube—but a bullet struck his wrist mid-lift. The tube hit the ground with a clatter as Lorian choked back a scream, staggering.
The air in the colossal, echoing tunnel thrummed with the desperate violence of the ongoing skirmish. Metallic scrapes and the harsh reports of gunfire bounced off the damp concrete walls, mingling with the spray of water from the massive reservoir that stretched, a dark, churning abyss, along one side of the platform.
Tamisra, a blur of merciless precision, stepped in, a shadow against the dim emergency lights. Before Lorian, with his volatile powers, could even react, she drove a savage elbow into the side of his neck. The impact was sickeningly dull, a sound lost in the chaos, but effective. Lorian's eyes rolled back, and he dropped like a sack of steel, collapsing bonelessly onto the unforgiving platform, dazed but thankfully still alive.
Rona, seeing his friend fall, reacted with a primal scream of rage. "Lorian!" His hand flew to his side, snatching his pistol from its holster with practiced speed. He began firing, a rapid, desperate volley aimed squarely at Tamisra. She moved with uncanny speed, instinctively raising her forearm. The bullets, precisely aimed at her head, sank into her flesh with ugly thuds. A fleeting grimace crossed her features, but the wounds began to knit themselves closed even as the lead slugs were still embedded. With an almost dismissive gesture, she shook her arm, and the bullets, like discarded pebbles, clattered onto the concrete.
"You'll pay for that, you bastard," Tamisra growled, her voice a low, dangerous rumble. She made a mad dash at him, her shotgun, until now unused, becoming a bludgeon. With a powerful swing, she used the weapon's butt to club Rona on the shoulder. He grunted, a sharp exhalation of pain, and stumbled forward, falling to his knees. But even as he dropped, his eyes were locked on her. He wrapped his arms around her hips, a desperate, powerful tackle, bringing her crashing to the ground beside him.
The impact rattled her, but before she could fully recover, Rona, fuelled by sheer adrenaline and a protective fury, used the hard cast on his arm, a relic from a previous battle, to strike her on the head. A dull thud echoed in the tunnel. Tamisra's vision swam for a split second, but her retaliation was instant and brutal. Her free hand shot out, grabbing Rona's cast-clad arm. Her fingers tightened, iron clamps, and with a sickening CRACK and a grind of plaster, she crushed the cast, and the arm within it, with her bare hands.
Rona let out a pained, guttural scream, a sound of pure agony that tore through the din. "Aaargggh! You'll rip it off!" he snarled, his face contorted in a mask of pain and hatred. Her vice grip threatened to rip his forearm into two, bone grinding against bone. Desperate, he quickly reached out with his other hand, scrabbling for his pistol, which had fallen nearby. His fingers closed around the grip, and he brought it up, the barrel aimed squarely at Tamisra's forehead.
In an instant, Tamisra's free hand shot out, seizing the gun. She wrenched it, pointing it away just as Rona's finger tightened on the trigger. The shot exploded, a deafening roar in the enclosed space, missing her by mere inches, the hot air of the muzzle flash searing her skin. A frantic struggle ensued, a visceral dance of death on the grimy platform. Rona, his arm being systematically destroyed, tried his best to end her life, while Tamisra, her face a mask of primal fury, fought to avoid a new bullet hole while simultaneously trying to rip his arm cleanly from its socket.
Then, abruptly, something caught Rona's attention. His eyes flickered, briefly losing their singular focus on Tamisra. He momentarily let Tamisra have control, the nozzle of the gun moving infinitesimally to his left. That fleeting distraction, that moment of perceived weakness, was all he needed. With a raw, animalistic roar, he jerked his broken right arm from her grip. A loud CRACK echoed, accompanied by a horrifying, wet ripping noise as he tore whatever remained of his forearm from her grip, a muffled scream of agony escaping his lips. Blood, dark and arterial, spurted from the ragged stump as he staggered to his feet, holding the mangled remains of his arm.
He didn't hesitate. His eyes, now cold and sharp, fixed on the crouched Tamisra. He raised his pistol, its barrel steady despite the shuddering pain, and fired. Two precise shots. CRACK-CRACK. Both found their mark, slamming into her head. Tamisra's body stiffened, then crumpled, falling lifelessly onto the concrete platform.
Rona didn't spare her another glance. His gaze, now solely on his friends, swept to Izari, who was on the floor nearby. Izari, his hand severely slashed, was pressing it against his left shoulder, staring helplessly as Amara, a furious dervish of blades and rage, prepared to decapitate him with her next strike. She had a glinting, wicked blade raised high.
"Izari!" Rona bellowed, his voice raw. Using his last bullet, his final act of defiance, he fired at the back of Amara's neck. The impact sent a shockwave through her. The pistol clicked empty, useless, as he fell heavily to one knee, the gun clattering, a forgotten piece of metal, away from him.
Amara coughed, a wet, rattling sound, blood blooming like a dark flower on her lips. She struggled to find her footing, the sudden, unexpected impact a jarring blow to her neural pathways. This hesitation was all Izari needed. He quickly scrambled to his feet, using his good shoulder to shove her away from him with all his remaining strength. She stumbled backwards, gasping and choking on her own blood, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. Her gaze darted frantically around, searching for Tamisra. Then she saw her. Lying on the ground. Motionless.
A guttural, ear-piercing scream tore from Amara's throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated grief and rage that reverberated through the tunnel. "TAMISRA! NOOO!" Her eyes, blazing with an infernal fury, locked onto Rona. She launched herself forward, hands outstretched, seeking to strangle the life out of him, to tear him limb from limb. "You bastard! You killed her!"
But Izari and a now recovered Lorian, his head still throbbing but his resolve firm, moved in unison. They stood in her way, both men grabbing Amara in a tight, unyielding embrace as they began to push her back. "Amara, stop! He had no choice!" Lorian pleaded, his voice strained.
In a horrifying moment of clarity, Amara looked back, her eyes widening as she realized what was happening. They weren't just restraining her; they were pushing her towards the edge of the platform, towards the vast, dark expanse of the reservoir below. The cold, churning water seemed to beckon, a watery grave. She began thrashing, a wild, desperate animal, aggressively hitting both men in an attempt to free herself. "Let go of me, you devils! Let go!"
Izari and Lorian, gritting their teeth against her frantic attacks, ignored her blows and kept on pushing. This was their only chance. In a surge of primal strength, Amara raised her left knee, driving it squarely into Izari's face. A sickening CRUNCH of bone echoed. He cried out, relaxing his grip on her, giving her a crucial opening. She seized it, twisting her body and driving a sharp elbow into his back, sending him sprawling to the ground. Then, with a furious shove, she pushed Lorian back before kicking him violently on the head. Lorian staggered, clutching his temple, before he too fell down, his head hitting the concrete with a dull thud.
The air in the colossal tunnel hung heavy with the scent of ozone and the damp earth from the unseen reservoir. Water dripped audibly from the immense arched ceiling, echoing across the vast concrete platform where the raw drama unfolded. Beyond, on the far side, a sheer wall rose, leading to a smaller, darker tunnel, a tantalizing escape that felt miles away.
Amara stood over Izari, her chest heaving, a wild, untamed madness blazing in her eyes. The mercenary's face was a mask of unbridled hatred, contorted with every guttural sound that tore from her throat. Her heavy, combat-reinforced boots slammed down with brutal, unforgiving force, each impact a sickening thud against Izari's head.
"You! It's because of you people that I've lost everything!" she shrieked, her voice raw and hoarse, echoing off the damp walls of the tunnel. "Everything!"
Each stomp was punctuated by her raw fury, a percussive beat against the cold concrete. "I'll kill each and every one of you! Starting with you, mutt!"
Izari, though dazed and bloody, was not yet broken. His hand shot out, grabbing Amara's ankle mid-stomp, surprising her with a surge of strength. He pushed her foot away with a grunt, using the momentum to propel himself upward, staggering to his feet. Amara hissed, an animalistic sound, as she stumbled backward. Without missing a beat, she spun, aiming a vicious kick at his head. It landed squarely, sending a jarring crack through the air. Izari, already weakened, reeled backward, tumbling awkwardly towards the perilous edge of the platform, precariously close to the dark, churning water of the reservoir below.
Amara didn't spare him another glance. Her gaze, still burning, swept across the platform, landing on Rona. She delivered a swift, unceremonious kick, sending him sprawling out of her path, a mere obstacle in her path. Her focus had shifted, narrowing with a desperate, almost maternal urgency. She sprinted towards Tamisra, her fellow mercenary and closest companion, whose still form lay slumped on the cold ground.
Falling to her knees, Amara pulled Tamisra's body into a tight embrace, cradling her. "Tammy! Wake up, please wake up!" she pleaded, her voice cracking now with a different kind of pain. Her hand brushed through Tamisra's hair, then cupped her cold cheek. Tears welled up in Amara's eyes, hot and stinging, betraying the veneer of her rage.
At that moment, a figure materialized behind her, seemingly appearing from the deep shadows near the tunnel wall. The Seer, cloaked in dark, flowing garments that seemed to absorb the dim light, squatted beside them. Cassia, who had been cowering near a pillar, let out a silent gasp, her breathing quickening into a terrified pant as soon as she recognized him.
The Seer's gaze, unnervingly calm, fell upon Tamisra's body. A thin, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, a chilling contrast to the chaos. "You are one lucky woman," he murmured, his voice a low, resonant tone that seemed to carry an ancient weight. He pointed a long, slender finger at the bullet wounds peppering Tamisra's head. The bullets, by some impossible miracle, had not penetrated fully through her skull; they were lodged just beneath the surface. Tamisra was alive, well, barely alive.
Amara, desperate hope flickering in her eyes, turned to the Seer, her face streaked with tears. "Please," she choked out, "bring her back. I'm begging you."
The Seer calmly looked at her, his dark eyes like fathomless pools, before his gaze shifted, now directed completely at a cowering Cassia. She was backing herself against the cold concrete wall, her breath shallow, barely a whisper of air leaving her lungs as her terrified gaze fixated on him. The Seer's thin smile broadened slightly, a predatory curve. He outstretched a hand towards her, a slow, deliberate beckoning gesture.
Cassia, her voice a barely audible whisper, began to protest. "No… please…"
"We need you, Cassia," the Seer called out, his voice a silken command that brooked no argument.
Cassia looked away, her body now visibly trembling, her head shaking. "Leave me alone."
The Seer almost let go of Tamisra's body, his expression momentarily hardening. "We are your family, child. Don't push us away."
Cassia looked back at him, her fear still palpable, yet a spark of something else, a nascent courage, flickered in her eyes. "You only want to use me," she countered, her voice gaining a fragile strength. "I'm not family. I'm just a tool."
The calm, collected expression on the Seer's face faltered, revealing a slight, almost imperceptible surprise upon hearing those defiant words. His brow furrowed. "Who… who told you that?" His eyes immediately darted over to Rona, who was still recovering from Amara's kick, bruised but conscious. "Is it him?"
The Seer's gaze returned to Cassia, a question in their depths. "Don't you remember?"
Cassia faced him fully now, her trembling lessening with each word. "I remember everything."
"Then why…" The Seer trailed off, rubbing his temple with a gloved hand, his unease beginning to seep through his meticulously maintained calm facade. "No, this can't be." His voice held a rare note of genuine confusion. He then turned to face her fully, his eyes narrowing, his previous unease hardening into a chilling resolve. He then motioned subtly to Amara. "Go. Grab her."
Amara, her face still tear-stained but her mercenary instincts rekindled by the Seer's command and the promise of Tamisra's healing, nodded slightly and scurried towards Cassia.
Before she could reach her, a blur of motion launched itself from the shadows where Izari had fallen. It was Lorian, propelled by a surge of pure, desperate rage. He launched himself at Amara, tackling her to the ground with a guttural roar. He began punching her furiously, each blow fueled by a burning hatred for what she had done to his friends. "I'll kill you, you murderers!" Lorian panted through gritted teeth, his breath ragged and pained, as he kept pummeling Amara, his knuckles connecting with sharp, sickening thuds.
Amara, though momentarily stunned, retaliated with a brutal efficiency. She poked his eyes with her fingers, sharp and sudden. Lorian cried out in pain, a grunt torn from his throat, as he instinctively clapped his hands over his face. Amara seized the opportunity, shoving him off her, scrambling to her feet. She then kicked Lorian furiously in the ribs, a relentless barrage of blows. "Die! Die! Die!" she yelled, her voice spiraling into a frenzied shriek as she continued to kick him repeatedly. Each impact made Lorian cough out blood, a dark crimson stain spreading across his shirt. "You hypocrites deserve what's happening to you!"
Finally, she stopped, getting on her knees beside his writhing form. She grabbed Lorian by his head, twisting him roughly to face Izari, who lay still on the ground, watching them with wide, horrified eyes. A sinister, triumphant smile stretched across Amara's blood-splattered face as she looked directly into Izari's eyes, a promise of impending doom.
"Say goodbye," Amara snarled, her fingers already finding the right position to snap Lorian's neck.
Izari, his voice a desperate croak, out stretched his hand towards Amara, pleading silently for Lorian's life, a silent prayer echoing in the tunnel.
Suddenly, a loud, wet squelch ripped through the air, followed by a sickening cacophony of breaking bones and tearing flesh. It was a sound that made every head snap towards its source.
Amara and Izari, their deadly struggle momentarily forgotten, turned in unison to look. The Seer stood, half-naked, his dark robes ripped open and discarded. His exposed top half of the body was swelling and rippling with something monstrous underneath his skin, like a nest of snakes writhing within. The skin on the left side of his torso began to tear, not in a fragile rip, but a violent rending. From the expanding wound, a skinless head, devoid of features beyond the crude shape of a skull, popped out. A pile of muscle and bones, glistening and raw, began pushing itself from the swelling, distorting body of the Seer.
All this while, the Seer grunted in pain, his face contorted, but his eyes remained open, staring a hole into Cassia, an unwavering, hypnotic gaze. Cassia, still paralyzed by his terrifying stare, stood pressed against the tunnel wall, her face a mask of pure terror.
"You… grunt …are the only… grunt …one not doing your part," the Seer
grunted, his voice strained and distorted by the agonizing transformation, as he addressed Cassia.
After what seemed like an eternity, the skinless humanoid fully crawled through the rapidly expanding tear on the Seer's body, now entirely free. Its bones cracked loudly as its legs started realigning themselves, stretching and shrinking into appropriate, human-like proportions. It let out a weak, high-pitched wail, a sound of raw, newborn agony, as eyes began regenerating in its empty sockets, dark and glistening. Its arms cracked as it outstretched them, using them to push itself up from the ground. Soon, it was on its feet, a grotesque, perfectly formed mockery of a human.
The Seer stood still, wincing in pain, but his large, gaping wound on his torso began to rapidly regenerate, the flesh weaving itself back together with unnatural speed. He extended his hand towards the creature, and it slowly, hesitantly, grasped it. He smiled at it, a chilling, triumphant expression, and then pointed a finger towards Tamisra's lifeless body.
The creature lumbered towards Tamisra, its movements stiff and uncoordinated, and placed its raw, regenerating hands on her body. Instantly, an impossible exchange began. Skin, hair, and nails began to rapidly regenerate on the creature's body, starting from its hands and spreading outward like a wave of corrupted life. Simultaneously, Tamisra's body began decomposing at an alarming rate, her flesh turning grey, then black, shriveling and decaying with horrifying speed, feeding the creature's metamorphosis.
In mere seconds, the creature had fully regenerated, now standing as a perfectly healed, whole Tamisra. Her empty eyes, devoid of any light or recognition, stared out into the vast, cavernous tunnel, seemingly looking at nothing in particular, as if processing who she was, or perhaps, what she had become.
The air in the cavernous tunnel was thick with the stench of ozone and damp concrete, a fitting backdrop for the horror unfolding. The Seer, his face a mask of cold anticipation, shot Amara a piercing look. "Now!" he commanded, his voice echoing with unnerving authority.
Amara, a mercenary driven by spite and a fierce loyalty to Tamisra, released her grip on Lorian with a snarl and lunged at Cassia. Her movement was swift, predatory. But before she could close the distance, a sickening crack tore through the sudden silence. It was wet, terrible, a sound that spoke of bone and sinew pushed beyond their limits.
Amara, mid-stride, stumbled. Her neck, twisted at an impossible angle, broke with an audible pop. Her body, now a marionette with severed strings, collapsed to the grimy concrete floor, convulsing erratically, a tragic, broken thing.
Everyone froze. The world held its breath.
Cassia stood over Amara's fallen form, her own hands raised as if in a trance, like a puppet's, trembling. Dark, crimson blood dripped from her fingertips, yet she hadn't touched Amara. Her eyes were wide, dilated with terror and disbelief, her lips parted in a silent gasp. "No…" she whispered, the sound barely audible, a mournful plea. "No, no, I didn't… I couldn't have…"
The Seer's head turned slowly, an unnerving, thin grin stretching across his face. There was no anger, no shock, no concern for the mercenary he had just sacrificed. Only admiration. "Finally," he murmured, his voice a silken thread cutting through the stunned silence. "You see what you're capable of. You are blessed, child. Now, come with me and fulfill your destiny." He outstretched his hand towards Cassia once more, an invitation to a terrifying power.
From the periphery, Rona, bleeding from a fresh wound on his arm, dragged himself across the floor, his eyes fixed on Cassia. "Cassia! Cassia! You need to leave!" he rasped, his voice hoarse with urgency.
Cassia's gaze flickered from the unconscious, twitching Amara to the desperate Rona, then settled, cold and determined, on the Seer. Before she could make a move, a blur of motion erupted. A hand, strong and unyielding, shot out from the shadows, grabbing Rona from the ground and yanking him several feet into the air. He let out a faint, strangled scream before crashing back down onto the concrete, groaning as he struggled to roll over and see his assailant.
An angered Tamisra towered over him, her eyes wide and wild with a chilling, almost insane fury. Amara's close friend and fellow mercenary, she saw Rona as nothing but a worthless obstacle. She kicked him hard in the ribs. He folded, a gasp of pain tearing from his lungs. She then grabbed him by the throat, lifting him effortlessly, her muscles corded with rage, and slammed him back into the ground. A guttural grunt escaped Rona's lips as his body almost went through the reinforced concrete, leaving a shallow indentation.
Cassia instinctively moved to help him, but the Seer raised a hand, a silent, invisible barrier, blocking her. "This isn't about them, child. This is about you," he whispered, his voice dangerously soft, yet resonating with an unshakeable will. "If you want to free them of their misery, I suggest you cooperate."
Rona's hands scrabbled for Tamisra's wrists, but her grip tightened, a vice that he couldn't break. She was too strong, too consumed by her rage.
Then...
BOOM!.
The sound was deafening, a concussive wave that swallowed all other noise. The world lurched sideways as the corridor's ceiling buckled, groaning under an unseen force. Water surged, dark and cold and violent, as the massive reservoir's edge ruptured behind them. The pressure was incredible, a leviathan's breath; machines snapped like twigs, lights flickered out in a frantic dance before dying entirely, and alarms shrieked, their metallic cries swallowed by the roar of the deluge.
A massive girder, twisted and torn, came crashing down, splitting the reinforced floor with a thunderous impact. Debris flew, and bodies — both friend and foe — went flying in the chaos.
Cassia jumped back, narrowly avoiding a shower of concrete shards as the Seer, his face still etched with that unsettling grin, vanished into the churning pandemonium, barking orders that no one could hear over the apocalyptic din.
Tamisra screamed in frustration, a raw sound of rage and despair, as a sudden wave, powerful and icy, kicked her backward. Rona, slick with his own blood but fueled by a desperate, instinctual will to survive, lashed out with a last, desperate boot to her chest. The blow, surprisingly effective, sent her sprawling into the churning floodwaters.
"RUN!" he shouted, his voice barely audible above the deluge, his eyes wide as he looked at Cassia.
Izari coughed, his lungs burning with inhaled water and dust. Hands grabbed him – Lorian, strong and decisive, dragging him toward an emergency ladder bolted into the side wall of the tunnel. They hauled Cassia up next, snapping her from her daze as icy water surged around their ankles, threatening to sweep them away.
Below, Rona struggled, his footing lost to the treacherous current. He reached out a bloodied hand, desperation etched on his face. Izari caught his hand, their fingers locking in a desperate grasp. They climbed, lungs screaming, muscles trembling with the effort, ascending into the relative safety of the higher passage.
Below, the water roared through the ruined corridor like a god's wrath, consuming everything in its path.
Miraculously, Amara stood chest-deep in it, her face bloodied and bruised, her neck still at an unnatural angle, yet somehow moving. Her gaze, eerily vacant, was locked on them as they climbed. She didn't scream. She didn't chase. Instead, she waded through the violent current towards Tamisra, who was struggling to regain her footing. Amara reached her and enveloped her in a long, almost unnerving hug. Tamisra, gasping for air, pushed her out of the embrace, taking a brief moment to give her a reassuring, albeit strained, look. Then, with a renewed surge of strength, Tamisra fought her way through the violent waters, pulling herself up onto the remaining part of the floor. She knelt, outstretched a hand to Amara, who followed, shedding off her cracked and battered armor as she reached her friend.
Amara looked up at the opening, far above the floor they were on, where the "mutt and his friends" had disappeared. A feral snarl twisted her lips.
Tamisra snapped her fingers at her, pulling Amara's attention back. "We are leaving now," Tamisra declared, already beginning her ascent up the emergency ladder.
"Wait," Amara ran after her, her voice a rough whisper. "We can't do that yet. We need to get to them first."
"We can do that later, if they survive this place anyway." Tamisra heaved, her exhaustion evident as she pulled herself up another ladder step. "I can't spend another second down here. That clergy man can stick the money up his…"
"He saved your life, twice!" Amara interjected, her voice sharp with uncharacteristic defence.
"Look, I'm glad he did that, but." Tamisra stopped momentarily, pulling herself up into the narrow, dark tunnel at the top of the ladder. Flickering emergency lights, spaced far apart, illuminated the rather narrow passage, lined with rusty pipelines that stretched endlessly into the gloom. Tamisra squinted, trying to discern an end to the forsaken tunnel.
"But what?" Amara joined her, her voice echoing in the confined space.
"I…I don't want to die," Tamisra choked out, her voice raw, cracking with a terror that clawed at her throat. She clutched at the rough fabric of her tunic, her knuckles white. "I've had enough. I don't want to do this job anymore."
Amara, ever the picture of hardened resolve, stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, a familiar snarl etched on her lips. She had been about to deliver another cutting remark about Tamisra's weakening resolve, but the sheer desperation in her friend's voice gave her pause.
Tamisra's gaze, wide and haunted, darted from the dark water to the oppressive stone walls, as if phantoms lurked in every shadow. "In those two instances, when that blast nearly took us, and when that rebel shot me in the head… I felt myself slip further. I…I've forgotten a lot of stuff. Bits and pieces of my past… of us," she insisted, her eyes pleading with Amara. "I don't want to experience it again. Not the fear, not the blank spaces in my mind, not the feeling of my own life just… fading."
Amara's snarl faltered, her sharp features softening almost imperceptibly as she met Tamisra's gaze. She saw past the mercenary's weariness to the deep, shattering fear of a woman she had known for years, a woman she'd fought alongside, bled with, and protected. Tamisra wasn't just complaining; she was utterly broken.
The silence that followed was thick, punctuated only by the drip of water from unseen crevices and the slow, rhythmic lapping of the reservoir against the collapsed edge. Amara's mind raced, weighing the Seer's exorbitant reward for delivering Cassia against the raw, unadulterated fear in Tamisra's eyes. The Seer, that cold, calculating mastermind, wouldn't tolerate failure. But Tamisra was more than just a partner; she was her closest friend, the only person Amara had ever truly relied on.
Tamisra took a shaky breath, her voice barely a whisper, yet filled with a newfound, desperate resolve. "I can't do it. I won't. So," she looked directly into Amara's eyes, a challenge and a plea intertwined, "are you with me or not?"
Amara's snarl began to lessen, dissipating like smoke. Her eyes, usually so sharp and unyielding, became distant, contemplating her next decision. The weight of Tamisra's words, the gravity of their situation, and the very real danger of crossing the Seer or abandoning their path, pressed down on her with suffocating force. But the thought of losing Tamisra, of watching her friend break completely, was perhaps the heaviest burden of all.