Liam's knees slammed into the cracked earth, his vision flickering with static. The shard in his hand burned, its violet glow searing his palm as the warlord's command—*"You are mine"*—echoed in his skull.
The weight of the connection pressed down on him like a vice. His limbs trembled, his breath came ragged, and his Echo Sync teetered dangerously. Every pulse from the shard tightened the grip, dragging his consciousness toward submission.
Then, hands wrenched him backward.
"Liam! Stay with me!" Mara's voice cut through the fog, raw with desperation as she hauled him away from the rift's edge. Her grip was ironclad, bruising. A Voidborn lunged, but she twisted sharply, bringing up her fist in a crackling arc, smashing its skull into the ground.
