I watched as Brod's eyes flickered with recognition, a hint of remembrance shining through the storm of emotions in his gaze. His grip on me faltered, the tumultuous winds around us beginning to wane as he struggled to make sense of the memories flooding back into his consciousness. The tornado prison weakened, its walls quivering and distorting as Brod's focus shifted from maintaining his rage to grappling with the fragments of his past.
As the tempest subsided, we found ourselves standing amidst the ruins of our conjured chaos, a strange calm settling over the chamber. The echoes of our battle faded into a hushed stillness, broken only by the sound of our breathing as we faced each other in the aftermath.
"Brod, it's me, Kyla," I said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "You're not alone in this. We've been through so much together."
