"Aramith, wait—!"
Mozrael's voice cracked through the heavy air, and for half a second, the shadow's grip loosened.
It was barely noticeable, but Mozrael caught sight of it.
Elira coughed, clinging to what little breath she had as her body sagged in the dark grasp.
"So..." Aramith said quietly. "A space user is the only way out."
"Yes..," Elira forced out. "Unless you enjoy rotting between dimensions, you'd let go of me."
A ripple flowed through the darkness, an irritated response to his mood.
"So you think I'm just going to sit here and wait?"
"Serephene knows you can't escape," Elira smiled, even with blood on her teeth. "She knows locking you here would make you panic. You'd be desperate." Her gaze slid to Mozrael. "And you'll have to choose."
The words tugged at his bloodlust.
Aramith's eyes sharpened.
"Choosing is not something I struggle with."
He opened his hand, and the shadow dropped her.
