The cold air of the chamber pressed against Lyra's skin as she tightened her grip on her greatsword. The door they had barricaded moments ago began to shake violently, the metallic clatter of the living armor on the other side echoing through the small room. The fortress was not about to let them rest.
"Victor, is that seal going to hold?" Lyra asked, her voice sharp but steady.
Victor, his staff glowing faintly as he poured more energy into the door, shook his head. "Not for long. These things are persistent."
Sylvia stood near the center of the room, her tail flicking impatiently as her feline eyes darted between Lyra and the trembling door. "We're not trapped," she said, her voice low and wild. "We're cornered. There's a difference."
Lyra gave her a quick glance, smirking despite the tension. "Then let's make this corner ours. Lets make these Living armor our bitches"
