Vance stumbled backward, his long violet hair whipping around him as he clawed at his own chest, eyes wide with unrestrained terror. His voice cracked as he demanded, "W-What… what did you do to me!?"
The tremor in his tone betrayed the confidence he had projected all along. He could feel it—an invisible weight pressing down on his very existence, a razor-thin edge of death hovering just above him, ready to fall at Vonjo's slightest whim.
The sensation was unknown to him; it was as if some part of his soul had been claimed, tethered to the iron will of the brother he had so gleefully mocked.
Inside him, fear twisted like a snake.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears, the phantom pressure growing heavier, making it hard to breathe. He felt naked, exposed, like a condemned man kneeling before the guillotine.
His healing abilities, his vaunted Reverse Blessing that had made him arrogant beyond measure, suddenly felt meaningless.
