"You don't understand what you're doing!" he snarled, his voice laced with desperation. Each word resonated with a frantic urgency, as if he believed he was the only one who could see the truth. "This isn't just about power—it's about balance. You think you can rewrite it without consequence?"
I forced my chin up, the corners of my mouth pulled taut. His question barely registered as an insult. Did he truly believe I'd undertaken this blindly? Yes, rewriting the leyline was a monumental risk, but we were far past the point of squeamishness. My illusions had shattered. The Cycle of Decay had loomed over us like a grim reaper for too long. If we wanted to avoid a cataclysmic future or a slow, doomed entrapment, we had to break the mold.
"It's already done," I said evenly, allowing only a trace of exasperation to tinge my words.
