He couldn't die here.
But the more Daemon struggled, the tighter the chains grew, their ethereal energy constricting around his throat, squeezing the breath from his lungs. Xuán Wěi watched with an almost detached amusement, his lips curling into a smile as he flicked his fingers, sending another pulse of magic through the chains.
"Why fight it?" Xuán Wěi asked, his voice a low hum, almost a whisper. "This world doesn't deserve your loyalty, Lieutenant. You're just another casualty, another fool chasing ideals that died long ago."
Daemon's vision blurred as he fought to keep his eyes open. The weight of the chains dragged him further down, his body trembling with the effort to stay upright. But it was Osalf's voice that pierced through the fog, sharp and biting, filled with a cold certainty.
