The camp was a discordance of mechanical and organic friction—the rhythmic shifting of plate armor, the low, serrated murmur of soldiers, and beneath it all, the omnipresent, sickening hum of the Alluring Pool. It vibrated against my senses, a cloying, saccharine pressure. For others, it was an irresistible siren song, but I adjusted my internal frequency, dampening the influence until it reached a near-total null.
My attention remained tethered to a singular, non-negotiable variable: Ivy.
She stood at the edge of her brother’s tent, motionless—a statue cast in shock—before she finally broke. She turned away from the camp, driving herself forward in rapid, punishing strides. She moved with a lethal amount of kinetic energy, her essence seeping out into the earth with every step. I mainta
