Chapter 9: Breaking

Quest Completed: Help Oyna enter the Tower of Solitude. You have gained 5000 experience points for completing a quest.

Vina Level Up...

Vina immediately swept away the level up notification screen and held her hand out. “Oyna, please, just pause for a moment. What exactly are you doing?” Her eyes were drawn to the glittering remnants of the crushed stone in Oyna’s grasp. “What was that?” she inquired, pointing to the golden dust settling in the air.

Oyna, her demeanor calm and explanatory, replied, “It was the fulfillment of my personal quest. I was given a notification stone, a signal to be used once I completed my assigned task.” Her voice carried a note of solemn duty, betraying her unwavering commitment to her directives.

Vina, frustration knotting her brow, realized the depth of Oyna’s loyalty to The Shaper’s commands. “Where is the portal ring located in this tower?”

“It’s on the top floor. But why are you distressed, Vina?” Oyna asked. For a fleeting moment, a hint of genuine curiosity laced Oyna’s words, a softening in her usually even tone.

Vina paused, weighing her next words carefully. “Oyna, we are the masters of our own lives. We aren’t owned anyone; our lives are not for another to control. Sacrificing your freedom for another’s demands is a choice that should never be made lightly. We have our own desires, our own paths to follow.” With a mixture of determination and anxiety, Vina turned towards the stairwell, the urgency of their situation propelling her forward.

The tower loomed dauntingly, its architecture a labyrinthine challenge designed to deter unwelcome visitors. Each floor required a tedious traverse across its breadth to access the next set of stairs, a deliberate design to hinder any rapid ascent. Vina couldn’t help but admire the strategic foresight behind the construction, even as she cursed its effectiveness. For someone with Faer’s abilities, navigating the tower was trivial. For Vina and Oyna, it was a test of endurance.

With a glance at Oyna, who moved with a deliberate, constrained pace, Vina realized the climb would be arduous for both of her, especially with the injury to her thigh making every step painful. She quickly accessed her notifications, scanning them for any information that might help their journey to the top.

Vina Level Up: You have reached level 17 and have 3 more attribute points to allocate. Your agility has increased by 2, your dexterity has increased by 1 and your mastery has increased by 1. You have gained 10 health and 5 stamina. You have earned two class ability points. You have earned one skill specialization point.

New Skill Learned: Riding. Progress to next skill level 32%. You can now ride animals and creatures.

Skill Level Up: Daggers has reached level 7. Daggers attack 18% faster and inflict 18% more damage. You have gained 75 experience points from leveling a skill.

Quest updated: Learn Skills 3 40/75

Vina pulled up her attributes page and quickly reviewed it.

Name

Vina Esca

Level

17

Health

300

Stamina

160

Experience

94/42000

Class:

Blood Weaver

Title:

Asharaina

Attributes

Points

Description

Strength

21

You can lift 100% of your body weight and weapons do 22% more damage

Endurance

28

Your stamina is increased by 90, and your stamina recovery is increased to 1.9 per minute.

Dexterity

28

Your body is 18% more likely to do exactly what you intend, you are 72% more likely to hit your target

Agility

41

Your movement is 93% faster, you are 124% more elusive, you can react 62% sooner.

Vitality

25

Your health is increased by 150, you clear poisons 75% faster, you are 45% more resistant to disease and infection

Charisma

12

People like you 10% more and you are 6% more likely to persuade someone

Mastery

29

You learn skills 76% faster. You are 19% more likely to learn a skill on your first try.

Divinity

0

Locked

Attribute Points Remaining

3

Skill Specializations Remaining

1

Class Ability Points

2

As Vina paused in the dimly lit stairwell, the weight of her recent experiences in the Gloom pressed upon her. The close calls and Norimor's warnings had underscored a critical lesson—the paramount importance of endurance. Without hesitation, she allocated all three newly acquired points to boost her endurance, elevating it to a close second behind her agility. Despite the current debuffs from exhaustion clouding her, she felt a surge of energy from the upgrade, a welcome albeit small reprieve in her weary state.

Turning her attention to the intricate web of her skill tree, Vina found herself at a crossroads with myriad paths unfurling before her. Yet, her priorities were clear. The allure of enhancing Blood Aid to its second rank was irresistible, promising a fivefold increase in healing speed. After she selected it, the revelation of Rank 3’s capability left her awestruck—

Blood Aid Rank 3: You may weave a bandage from your own blood. Blood Aid will instantly heal a wound using your own blood. This ability has a variable blood cost depending on the severity of the wound healed.

“Instantly?” she whispered in disbelief. The potential of such an ability eclipsed her initial plans with Sanguine Strike, compelling her to invest further into Blood Aid, elevating it to its final level.

With a newfound understanding blossoming in her mind, Vina experimentally touched the lingering wound on her leg, focusing her will. The sensation was immediate and profound; her injury knit together seamlessly, though the act noticeably depleted her blood reserves. Resorting to the stored blood in her amulet to replenish herself, she lamented the constant scarcity of this vital resource. “There’s never enough blood,” she mused, a tinge of frustration coloring her thoughts.

The disappearance of her walking impairment marked a noticeable improvement in her mobility. She now outpaced Oyna significantly, each step echoing her restored vigor. Yet, the disparity in their speeds only highlighted the sluggishness of their ascent, turning each moment into a test of patience for Vina.

“Oyna, I really want to get out of here before The Shaper comes for us. Are you able to move any faster? Will you leave the tower with me?” Vina asked as they crested the seventh floor, her voice carrying the stress she was feeling.

Oyna’s response was tinged with reluctance. “I can walk faster, but not without changing this form. The idea of that that leaves me uneasy.” She paused, a note of conflict in her voice. “And I’m not sure if I can leave… my quest here remains incomplete.”

Vina bit her lip in contemplation. A moment later a window appeared in her vision.

Title Under Threat: Asharaina You have become aware that one of your people is in danger. You have an obligation to help them. Failing to try will risk losing your title.

A heavy sigh escaped Vina as she absorbed the gravity of the message. It served as a stark reminder of the responsibilities that accompanied her title and the intrinsic bond that tethered her to Oyna. This connection, born of their unique circumstances, now compelled Vina to delve deeper into Oyna's motivations. “Oyna, why would you willingly surrender yourself to The Shaper?” she implored, her voice echoing the urgency of her concern.

Oyna’s pace did not waver as they ascended, her reply floating back to Vina with a hint of resignation. “It's the path laid out for me by my personal quest,” she divulged.

Vina’s mind raced, reflecting on her own array of quests, with the ultimate goal of reuniting with her sisters being on the forefront of her mind and heart. Yet, standing in the shadowy confines of the tower, she felt an acute sense of dissonance. “How do you reach out to save someone who sees no value in rescue?” she pondered in silence. Breaking the silence, she ventured, “Can you help me understand why you want this? Just outside of the tower you told me you were not a friend to The Shaper. Giving your life up seems a large sacrifice for someone who isn’t even your friend.” Vina said.

The oppressive silence that enveloped them seemed to stretch indefinitely, amplifying Vina's concerns that her inquiry might have been too intrusive. However, Oyna's eventual response was both simple and laden with depth, a question that pierced the heart of existence itself. “Why do you live, Vina?”

The simplicity of Oyna’s inquiry struck a chord within Vina, prompting a moment of introspection. She knew immediately that her answers were just about survival, self improvement, and family. Oyna, however, was looking for the essence of existence itself, the ever-evolving purpose that propelled her forward. While seemingly straightforward, Oyna had peeled back layers of Vina’s motivations, exposing the complex web of reasons that constituted her will to live.

Vina found herself grappling with the gravity of the question, her response measured and reflective. “My purpose has been shifting, changing as I continue to live. Initially, it was survival, then making myself stronger here, and now, reuniting my family,” she articulated, her voice tinged with uncertainty. As she pondered her own words, Vina questioned their completeness, pondering if they truly encapsulated the essence of her spirit. It sounded too simple to her ears. Part of her wondered if she was being entirely honest with herself.

The sound of Oyna’s mask brushing against her armor broke the contemplative silence, her confession stark and somber. “I continue to live without a reason to justify it. I do have a reason to die. My death will help The Shaper remake their family just as you desire for yourself.”

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Vina felt a jolt of discomfort at the parallel drawn between her aspirations and those of The Shaper. Oyna's bleak acceptance of her fate, a march towards sacrifice under a curse, struck a chord of deep empathy within her. This moment of revelation brought Norimor’s haunting speculation to the forefront of Vina’s mind:

“Sometimes, I wonder if The Shaper has shaped their brains.”

“Oyna, what does The Shaper do to people? What are their capabilities?” Vina inquired, her focus intensifying as she sought to understand the force that held Oyna in its grasp.

Without hesitation, Oyna’s response emerged, a mixture of resignation and factual clarity. “The Shaper endeavors to craft the perfect vessel for their sibling, a pursuit that has spanned lifetimes.”

“But what of their methods, their class, their abilities? What aspects do they own?” she pressed.

The response she anticipated never came. Instead, Oyna’s demeanor shifted dramatically into one of visible distress. Her attempts to articulate were visibly strained, each word a struggle against an invisible barrier that left her gasping for air, her single eye alight with a palpable panic.

Vina's heart hammered in her chest as she turned to fully face Oyna. The sight of her one eye, reddened and wide with terror, sent a cold wave of dread coursing through her veins. Oyna's hands desperately clawed at her throat, under her mask, as if to physically pry the words out that refused to come.

“It’s okay! You can stop trying,” Vina quickly intervened, reaching out to rest a comforting hand on Oyna's trembling shoulder. As Vina’s words of reassurance enveloped Oyna, a palpable sense of relief seemed to wash over the latter, her body’s tension dissolving under Vina’s gentle touch. The air, thick with anticipation and fear, carried Oyna’s labored sigh,

Vina's mind raced, spinning with new possibilities. "I once heard from a friend… They believed The Shaper could alter people’s minds. It's not that you don't have a reason to live. Maybe... maybe The Shaper took that away from you. Maybe they only left you with a reason to die,” she murmured, her voice softened with the unsettling epiphany.

Oyna's hand came up, frail fingers lightly touching Vina's. “What else did they take from me?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper lost in the heavy silence that engulfed them as Oyna’s gaze locked onto Vina.

"We'll figure it out together, Oyna. But first, we need to escape this tower," she promised, determination filling her voice.

A flicker crossed Oyna's eye, something unreadable and complex. "What was that?” Vina asked, curiosity tugging at her words.

Oyna seemed to hesitate, then, as if deciding to cross an unspoken threshold. A single tear escaped from her eye, glistening in the weak light before she confessed, her voice laden with a blend of complex emotions, “I failed my quest. I… I don’t want to die.”

For the first time, a tangible fear laced Oyna’s voice, echoing the undercurrent of dread that Vina had only sensed in her vibrance till now. It struck Vina, a discordant note in the symphony of their shared ordeal. Seeing Oyna finally accept the danger Vina had felt all along somehow made her feel in even more danger.

She looked at Oyna, seeing the raw vulnerability etched into her form. It was a mirror to the fear she heard, the one Oyna was trying so hard to hide beneath her hardened exterior. It was a fear that Vina understood all too well, a fear she saw reflected in her own journey with her encounters with The Twelve and Stine.

With a determined glint in her eye, Vina forced a smile onto her face, willing it to be convincing. “You’re brave to fight against what they've done," she said, her voice laced with admiration and quiet resolve. She extended her hand towards Oyna, a silent offer of companionship and shared strength. "We’re going to escape this," she affirmed, conviction seeping into each word. "Let’s go.”

~~~

As Vina ascended through the tower, each level unfurled a tapestry of opulence that spoke volumes of Faer's lavish lifestyle. The plush upholstery on every chair, the gleaming gold goblets adorning tables, and the walls lavished with exquisite art pieces stirred a blend of awe and curiosity within her. The luxurious woven rugs underfoot detailed a level of craftsmanship that left Vina pondering the origins of such treasures—what had been legitimately acquired and what had been appropriated through Faer's travels across Palitern.

However, the ambiance shifted dramatically as they approached the 17th floor. Vina's Blood Sense tingled with apprehension, a silent herald of the anomaly awaiting them above. “Oyna, something is different with the eighteenth floor.”

Oyna cast her gaze upward, as if trying to pierce the ceiling with her perception. "Yes I sense it too. It seems the Shaper has changed the final floor into a nest," she confirmed, her tone laced with a mix of curiosity and disdain. "It's strange that Faer would permit such an intrusion."

Surprise flickered across Vina's face, mirrored by the flickering red lamplight that lined the tower's walls. “Do you possess the Blood Sense skill as well?” she inquired, a mix of surprise and newfound respect weaving through her words.

“Yes,” Oyna replied simply, her gaze still fixed on the unseen mysteries of the floor above.

Understanding dawned on Vina, connecting unseen dots in the web of their intertwined fates. This was the missing piece of the puzzle, the reason Ebba knew the skill existed. She had known about Oyna and had meticulously recorded it in her books containing skills. “What about Ichoric Conversion?” Vina ventured further, her curiosity piqued. She understood 'Ichor' in two senses—one, as the divine blood that flowed through the veins of Greek gods, and the other, more archaic, referring to a wound's discharge, like pus. Yet, the nature of such a conversion remained a mystery to her.

“Yes. I am familiar with the skill,” Oyna said, turning her gaze back to Vina. Her voice took on a somber tone as she explained, “It is an active skill that allows for the alteration of blood types. The Shaper forced me to learn it, hoping I could adapt my blood to match that of the sister. The skill consumes a considerable amount of stamina and is limited to changing blood outside of the body. For The Shaper, that skill was a dead end.”

Vina's head tilted slightly, a gesture of empathy and a silent acknowledgment of the weight of Oyna's revelation. The enormity of the Shaper's efforts began to dawn on her. “I've never encountered that skill myself. What do you think awaits us above?”

“Likely remnants of The Shaper’s work. Should they show hostility, we shall kill them with ease,” Oyna replied, her voice regaining its steadiness, a hint of determination threading through her words.

Upon reaching the next level, Vina’s Blood Sense erupted in alarm, signaling the atrocities enacted upon the beings there. Yet, as Oyna predicted, they confronted these creatures with little difficulty, swiftly bringing an end to their twisted existences. In the aftermath, Vina noted the accrual of experience points, a modest reward for their grim task.

You have earned 820 experience points from killing misshapen of various levels.

Surveying the aftermath, Vina’s urgency spiked. “Where is the portal ring, Oyna?” The floor beneath them was slick with the ichor of the misshapen, their remains scattered like grotesque detritus. The grandeur of the gothic windows was marred by grime, their ability to admit moonlight stifled, casting the room in a pall of gloom. Only the lantern’s glow revealed the room's horrors, highlighting the pulsating sacs that adorned the walls like macabre ornaments.

“When last I was here, the ring was by that wall,” Oyna speculated, a shadow of doubt in her tone. “Could it have been taken?”

Vina’s response was swift, her confidence unshaken. “No, my sister assured me it was here. She would know if it was moved.”

Oyna approached a mound of the fallen, her sword a swift extension of her will, slicing through the carnage with a dispassionate efficiency. “Then perhaps it lies buried.”

Joining Oyna, Vina set to work, her resolve steeling her against the repulsion to the task she performed. They shifted the gruesome remnants, their efforts a testament to their determination. Before long, the glint of the portal ring emerged from under the carnage. “Yes! Here it is!” Vina exclaimed, a mix of relief and vindication in her voice. As she pondered the scene, a chilling realization dawned on her. “The Shaper must have used the portal as a receptacle for the dead,” she mused, the gravity of their situation settling in.

As the last of the twisted remnants were swept aside, Vina knelt beside the ancient ring, her fingers trembling with anticipation as began trying to infuse it with her blood. Yet, the ring remained indifferent, rejecting her with a cold, silent repudiation. She withdrew, a frown creasing her brow. “Something’s wrong.”

Stepping back, she scrutinized the ring’s surface, her gaze tracing the intricate web of runes that spiraled across its cold metal. A realization dawned on her, chilling and profound—the bridge mechanism had been altered, the mark of Faer’s skill unmistakably woven into the very network of runes. “Faer altered it. He’s tampered with a portal ring,” she said, her tone laced with a blend of awe and trepidation.

“Can you fix it?” Oyna asked.

Vina’s explanation was soft, almost reverent, as she unraveled the mystery before them. “Faer restricted the source of the divinity that powers the ring. It's been locked to recognize only himself.” Her hands hovered over the ring, unsure.

A moment of introspection followed, Vina pinching the bridge of her nose, her mind a whirlwind of possibilities and uncertainties. The complexity of the runes far exceeded her grasp; her expertise paled in comparison to the mastery that Faer wielded with such casual brilliance. Yet, the echo of her mother’s achievements whispered a challenge—had Vina not bent the will of her mother’s creation to her own?

With the weight of their predicament bearing down on her, Vina sought confirmation of an alternative, a lifeline should her efforts fail. “If I mess this up, do you know where another portal ring is, Oyna?”

Oyna’s response was a quiet admission of ignorance. “No. My world was confined to a cave before this tower. I’ve never encountered another portal ring.”

A curse slipped through Vina’s lips, a fleeting surrender to frustration. Yet, determination quickly reasserted itself. She produced a simple knife, the tool seeming almost sacrilegious in its ordinariness against the backdrop of such profound skill. She knelt once more, her movements deliberate, as she began the precarious task of severing Faer’s alterations from the ring’s structure.

But as the knife made its first incision, the ring erupted in a blaze of azure light, a beacon that banished the shadows and bathed the room in an otherworldly glow. Vina recoiled, a startled curse breaking from her as the portal awakened, its surface rippling like the surface of a disturbed pond. And from its depths, a figure emerged, silhouetted against the luminescence, casting a long shadow that stretched across the floor towards Vina.

The figure was a man, towering at seven feet tall, his presence imposing as he stepped from the portal with a martial bearing. Beside Vina, Oyna tensed, her body coiling like a spring ready to unleash. In the eerie amalgam of red lantern light and the portal’s azure glow, the man’s form was revealed in grotesque detail. His naked skin was a tapestry of scars, disfiguring lumps, and festering sores—a sight so alarming it seemed to defy the natural order. Vina’s Blood Sense screamed a dire warning, revealing his formidable health of two thousand seven hundred, an amount that far exceeded the highest she had ever witnessed. His uniqueness lay in a singular aspect bonded within his body, an anomaly that defied Vina’s understanding.

Oyna’s reaction was immediate and terrifying. Her transformation was a spectacle of horror and majesty; her white gown spread apart, morphing into wing-like appendages that framed her now exposed, red-hued torso. But it was not the body of a woman that lay beneath; it was a writhing mass of red tentacles, pulsating with a life of their own. Oyna’s scream, filled with fear and desperation, pierced the charged air. “No! Not again!” With those words, she surged forward with surprising speed.

Vina, spurred by the unfolding chaos, conjured her own arsenal of blood abilities. She activated Blood Dance, wove the blood in the room into a cloak, and summoned a sword of coalesced blood, all in the blink of an eye. She charged after Oyna, finding herself to still be of superior speed. Together, they launched their assault on the towering figure.

Oyna’s sword descended in a vicious arc, aimed with lethal intent, but the man—unfazed—raised an arm, intercepting the blow. His flesh, marred yet muscular, resisted the attack, and Vina felt a spray of his blood as Oyna’s strike connected. Vina activated her Weak Points skill, but to her dismay, no vulnerabilities revealed themselves—not even the man’s eyes offered a target. Undeterred, she thrust her blood-forged sword into his chest, the sensation akin to piercing a substance far more resilient than flesh.

The man’s response was chillingly calm, his actions deliberate. He ensnared Oyna with a grasp, pulling her into a crushing embrace. His voice, a dissonant chorus of dual tones, resonated with a haunting authority. “We have neglected you far too long, Oyna. Your shape has come undone. Regardless, you have done well in our absence.” With a brutal gesture, he shattered her front mask and hurled her into the tower’s stone wall with a force that left her crumpled against the unforgiving stone.

As he faced Vina, the dual voices melded into a single, haunting chorus, resonating with an eerie harmony. “Blood Weaver. Asharaina. Traveler Vina. Your grace period has expired. Now, you shall contribute to the culmination of our endeavor.”

Vina's gaze instinctively darted to Oyna, relief briefly washing over her as she noted signs of life. Her attention, however, was momentarily captured by the sight of Oyna’s face—truly seeing her for the first time without her mask, revealing four beautiful red eyes. Her focus snapped back to the man as she witnessed the blood in the room coalesce and seep into his wounds, knitting flesh together with unsettling precision. “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice sharpened with anger and a hint of desperation. It was a stalling tactic, she knew the answer, but she needed time to forge a semblance of a strategy.

In the dimming luminescence of the portal, now supplanted only by the lantern's red glow, Vina fought to suppress the rising tide of fear within her. The conjoined voices of The Shaper replied, a tone of grandeur lacing their words. “The people refer to us as The Shaper, a title that scarcely encompasses the breadth of our abilities. When Trina faltered, it was we who salvaged Palitern. They ought to revere us as their Savior.”

Vina retreated, carefully maintaining a buffer between herself and The Shaper, while her peripheral vision kept a wary watch over Oyna. She continued to weave her delay, “Langternem Disease—it claimed your sister, didn’t it?” she inquired, though Blood Sense had already unveiled the origin of the second voice to her.

The mention of the name seemed to animate The Shaper, prompting a slow, deliberate rotation of its body. Vina couldn’t suppress a gasp as her eyes confirmed her senses—a woman was amalgamated into the man’s back, sharing the same body. An intricate red tattoo sprawled across her chest, branching out like a living lattice of tendrils. Her gaze, heavy with a silent plea, met Vina’s. “Kaliq saved me from Langternem's grasp when Trina could not. I teetered on the brink of death numerous times before he created his solution. He alone halted the plague that besieged a city, confining it within us. What did they call that horrible event, Vina?”

The scope of the tragedy etched into the woman’s form left Vina breathless, “Trina’s tragedy,” she whispered back.

“Yes. They lament Trina’s ordeal, but look at us—can you not see our agony? Whose tragedy does it truly belong to?” the woman queried, her voice a blend of sorrow and accusation.

“I see your suffering, I feel your anguish,” Vina responded, her sincerity attempting to bridge the chasm of their shared pain. Their vibrance fluttered erratically, a mystery Vina could not unravel. “What is your name?”

“Siany,” came the response, a single word heavy with the weight of untold stories.

Vina, grasping at straws of hope, ventured, “Kaliq and Siany. What are you trying to do? What is it you need?”

"I wish for Kaliq to rediscover the essence of life, to reclaim the joys and sorrows that have been his sacrifice in his quest to sustain me," Siany's voice emerged, tinged with a poignant blend of love and sorrow.

"No," interjected Kaliq, his dissent so startling that Vina felt Oyna’s jerk to wakefulness. "It is Siany who has endured beyond measure. She is the one who deserves a life free from the shackles of agony. But today, we shall see both our desires fulfilled."

A moment of clarity struck Vina, a chilling realization that threaded pieces of a puzzle long scattered. The unique vibrance she had sensed at the assemblers, the ominous presence of The Darkness binding them—Kaliq and Siany's vibrance mirrored that complex interweaving. "Wait! Hold on," she implored, desperation sharpening her plea. "The assemblers... were they your creation in an attempt to fashion a new body for Siany?"

A heavy silence fell, a prelude to Siany's admission. "With the assistance of a stone entity from another world, Kaliq shaped them into being. Our hope was that through endless variations, a template immune to Langternem might emerge—a form that could host us both."

Vina's understanding deepened, the pieces aligning with tragic clarity. "Zel'alor was your assistant. Meanwhile, you harvested abilities from creatures, forcing them into people capable of adopting such power. The ultimate goal: to engineer a perfect body."

"Exactly," came Kaliq's voice from behind Siany, a confirmation of their grim endeavor to defy the bounds of nature.

Vina's fear found a voice, a whisper against the storm of revelations. "But why involve Blood Weavers? Why target us?"

Siany frowned, “Blood Weavers and other blood classes have unique class abilities that manipulate blood. We needed those abilities to survive so we could continue to contain Langternem.”

"And Oyna's duplication of my universal donor ability…" Vina probed further, seeking understanding amidst the growing tension.

"Oyna is already beyond Langternem's reach, but I must ensure her body will not reject Siany." Kaliq began, but it was Siany who elucidated their harrowing plan. "Once I am reborn in Oyna's form, Kaliq will be free from sheltering me. And then, Vina, he intends to bend your will to our command."

The question tore from Vina, a plea for reason in the face of despair. "But why?"

“When I leave this body, Langternem will be free once more. Kaliq’s class abilities keep it contained for now, but we can’t destroy it. We’ve tried… everything. It can’t be killed.” Siany confided, her voice a fragile thread of hopelessness.

"Kaliq envisions using you to forge a prison of Blood Runes for Langternem, enhancing the runic seal with his own aspect. Perhaps, then, it might be contained indefinitely," she concluded, a note of desperate optimism in her voice.

Vina, propelled by an instinct to heal, to help, extended her offer. “I can use the skill to help you right now! How can blood runes contain a disease? I don’t understand, but we can work together on this! You don’t need to control me to gain my help!”

Yet, their response came as a single, unified decree, a cold dismissal of her plea. "We cannot allow such risks."