“But this wasn’t the f*****g deal!” Havana screamed, her voice shattering like glass across the scorched expanse.
Avarastra only watched, elegant in her serpentine stillness. Her silver scalp of hissing snakes shifted and sighed as if amused.
“Neither was you killing yourself,” she murmured. “But here we are.”
Havana’s throat closed—words dissolved behind her teeth.
“You said I had a choice,” she rasped. “This—this isn’t a choice. It’s damnation disguised as mercy.”
Avarastra smiled like a wound. “Mercy is a myth told by the guilty to sleep at night. I offered you truth. A price. And power.”
“But fifty-eight souls--” Havana shook her head, tears streaking black down her cheeks. “I can’t. I won’t. That’s not a life. That’s a blood-drunk loop.”
Avarastra’s expression soured to someth
