The clicking of Cassarae's boots echoed through the halls. But her gait was calm, and almost heavy, not because she was dragging her feet, but because the sword she carried wherever she went only seemed to grow heavier with time.
Unlike Sylas, she wasn't restricted in the treasures she could use. And because of that, she had long delved into the world of treasures and their use in bolstering strength.
Of course, a lot of these things required money—money that she hadn't actually had much of…
Until now.
Even so, she had carried the same sword that she had from the very start of the trial, never making any attempt to change it. And the longer it spent with her, the sharper, heavier, and more sentient it seemed to grow.
It responded to her emotions, suppressing the world around and carrying with it the confidence that she carried.
And it was with its suppressed howls that she pressed her palm forward, pushing the doors ahead aside with both palms.
