“No,” he said, quieter. “We’ve been walking into a snare. Over and over. The Rift is mimicking time. It’s trapping us in a loop. I’ve seen battlefields enchanted like this in the Eastern Wars. We need a strategy. Not brute force.”
I clenched my jaw. The static in the air buzzed over my skin. My storm magic was fraying at the edges, reacting to my frustration.
“And if we wait too long?” I whispered. “What if someone’s trapped inside?”
Damian’s face shifted at that. Just a flicker. His eyes darted toward the Rift entrance—a swirling wall of dark mist at the base of the volcano—and then back to me.
“I know why you’re here,” he said, gentler now. “But we’ll lose more if we keep rushing in blind.”
I said nothing.
Just… walked.
Until I stood right before the Rift again. The edge of it pul
