Sarissa stood motionless, her heart was a knot of cold stone.
The air had thickened, the tension of the forest curling around her like a dark mist. Her fingers clenched around [Cheshire's Gleam], but the weight of her sword-partner felt suddenly insignificant, as if she was holding nothing but the air itself.
She heard Victor's words echo through the camp, and felt the chill of his betrayal seep into her bones.
"You're not a part of it."
They were no longer fighting for survival. Something more was at play, and the [Dungeon War] had not even begun.
The forest beyond the camp seemed to hum in a language she couldn't understand, sharp, broken syllables that clawed at the edges of her thoughts.
Sarissa could feel the Stories pressing against her mind, whispering things she wasn't meant to hear. The trees beyond the ward's edge pulsed with a faint glow, as though the dark roots of the forest had found a new rhythm, an alien pulse that threatened to swallow everything in its path.
