Skye POV
**Trigger Warning: The following content contains descriptive assault.**
"You won't win," I yelled, my voice echoing of the large rocks. It only caused Rook to laugh, his deep chuckles filling the air. I locked eyes with my clone, a surge of anger coursing through me.
"Oh, Skye, but we already have," Rook said, his voice dripping with confidence. He closed the distance between us, his grip tightening around me. The scent of his dark presence filled my nostrils, a mixture of smoke and decay.
"Skye," Chaos's voice boomed in my mind, urging me to respond. But for some reason, I couldn't link back. My clone smirked, her eyes glinting with malicious intent. She slowly reached into the cloak she wore, pulling out a small jar.
My final horn piece sat imprisoned in it, filling me
