Kaelen's initial burst of energy and speed was noticeably flagging. His figure, previously a swift blur, was becoming slower, his movements more labored. His very form seemed to be falling apart with each energy expenditure, bits of his outer casing flaking away, internal components sparking visibly. Yet, Vorenza herself was nothing short of a nightmare. Pieces of her skin and clothing hung precariously, her silver-threaded repairs struggling to keep pace with the damage. Only her enraged roar at Kaelen's retreating figure spoke of her fading power and rising desperation.
She was truly desperate. What had begun as a mere inconvenience, a few seconds of suppressed movement, had now escalated into a full-blown minute of being actively hampered by Lyra's curse. The more she was attacked, the weaker she became, and agonizingly, the stronger the curse's grip on her grew.
