She is way stronger than I thought, and it seems she does not tire. Does not hesitate.
And she’s already moving again.
I pivot as she blurs to my left, her Gift lashing out in whips of shadowed brilliance. One grazes my shoulder, burning cold and hot all at once. I grit my teeth and roll, coming up just as she drives a palm toward my face.
Too fast.
I catch her wrist instead, trying not to hurt her.
The moment our skin connects, power surges—violent and invasive. Her Gift claws at mine, trying tohookinto it, to overwrite me the way the Siphon has overwritten her.
I snarl and twist, redirecting the blast into the shield.
Light slams into the tenari hide and rebounds, striking her full in the chest.
She gasps as she’s thrown backwards, skidding through dirt and broken roots. The trance wavers—but somehow it doesn’t break.
She screams as the black goo writhes violently at her ear, pulsing brighter, thickening, anchoring itself deeper.
“No,” she growls, forcing herself upright, eyes blazing. “It said I’m stronger this way.”
My stomach drops.
The Siphon is altering her mind, making her believe this is right.
“You can’t believe it. It’s lying. It wants to kill you.” I shout, but she shakes my words off as if they mean nothing.
“No. You’re wrong.” She says before hurling herself at me again, faster than before, Gift cracking like a storm breaking loose. The air warps around us. Trees splinter as stray blasts tear through them.
I barely block in time.
Each impact drives me back, my boots carving trenches in the soil. My arms shake. My lungs burn.
“Asha!” she screams again, voice fracturing. “Why are you fighting it? Itfixesus!”
“I don’t want to be fixed!” I shout back, ducking under a scything arc of light. “And neither should you.”
She hesitates.
Just a fraction of a second, but it’s enough.
I slam my shield forward, not to strike—but totrap. The tenari hide drinks in her next blast, holding it, vibrating with contained force. I clench my fist, twist my wrist and watch as the stored energy snaps back into her.
She collapses to one knee, choking, the goo finally loosening—sliding free in thick, writhing tendrils.
I step forward cacooning the sludge with my newfound power and closing my hand.
It convulses violently, shrivelling, before sinking into the earth like it was never there.
She slumps.
“I—I…” She blinks hard, clutching her head. “What’s happening? Why does it hurt?”
I drop to my knees in front of her, gripping her shoulders. “You were controlled. It wasn’t you.”
Her breath shudders. “I thought… I thought I wanted it.”
“You didn’t,” I say gently. “You survived it.”
