Earlier—before we ever set foot in the Vanessa Dungeon—I made a promise to myself.
A vow.
That I'd grow stronger, that I'd shed this useless skin, stop dragging everyone down. One day, I'd stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Eris—not cowering in her shadow, not stumbling in her wake, but with her.
Fighting beside her.
Ripping through dungeons at her side.
Shielding her with my own hands.
No more dead weight.
No more pitiful, helpless tagalong.
I need to be useful!
I burn to be strong!
"As you probably already know," Princess Felicia speaks calmly in my head, "I don't have much time left. I can only control this body for so long."
I nod internally. "Right."
"So, this is your golden chance, girl," she adds, her voice sharper, more urgent. "Don't waste it."
"Nn!" I steel myself. "And how long can you stay in control again?"
"Two hours total," she replies. "Which means I've got about an hour and thirty minutes left before I'm forced to retreat."
"Roger that."
