He paused, glancing over his shoulder, his pale eyes catching her frantic gaze. "And when your death spell failed—when the mother took the blow and left the girl alive—you panicked a second time and wove a curse instead. You locked the shadow inside her, leaving it to fester for nine long years. By trying so desperately to prevent the vision, you directly forged the very weapon that will bring it to life."
Ishara's face twisted into a mask of pure denial. She shook her head violently, the heavy silver cuffs digging into her dark skin until faint beads of red appeared along her wrists, yet she felt no pain through the overwhelming shock of his words.
"Back then... back then we did not have the luxury of sitting in high towers and debating philosophy while the world burned!" she hissed, her voice cracking with strain.
