Aneithra dragged herself back to her feet, her breathing shallow and ragged.
The frost that usually clung to her breath was thin, smelling faintly of old iron. Yet she moved toward the chief once more, her heavy steps shaking the loose gravel.
"Stop," she said. It was neither a plea nor a command, but the final, hollow sound of a creature that had used every argument the world possessed and had only breath left.
"You do not have to do this. You have hurt us. You have proven whatever dark thing you came to prove. Let us go."
The chief looked down at her, his expression entirely devoid of anger. "I did not come here to prove anything," he said simply. "I came here for power. And I am leaving with it."
In that quiet, terrible moment, the last veil fell from Aneithra's eyes. She finally understood.
Pyronox had not been wrong about what these creatures could become when their desires swallowed their sense.
