In another, possibly distant location, Myria stepped out of the spatial vortex, raising her hand to see blood slightly spraying from her severed wrist. She remembered amidst the unfurling whistling winds, slicing through the air like blades, a sharp blade of wind sliced her hand at the wrist before Davis was absorbed into the spatial vortex he deployed through crushing the life-saving spatial talisman.
Myria couldn't help but heave a breath. Only she had seen this occur.
'What was that peculiar wind blade? It was more powerful than the others and came in our direction as though wanting to separate us, severing my hand before we could enter the spatial vortex. Is fate so skewed for us like this, acting to decrease chances of survival when in danger?' Myria wondered.
