"My vision is getting blurry, I'm seeing things."
Stabilizing the hand that clutched the crossbow, Enzo ground his teeth together until his jaw ached. Sweat slid down his temple, stinging his eyes as he tried to line up the shot on the figure standing ahead of him. The forest felt warped, as if the air itself was bending against his will.
No matter how he adjusted his stance or slowed his breathing, the bolt never found its mark. Each time he focused, the figure split apart, fragments of it peeling away and crawling straight into his mind. Images overlapped, shadows twisted, and false movements dragged his attention in every direction at once.
The pressure became unbearable.
With a shaky breath, Enzo reached to his side and pressed his palm against the medallion hanging at his waist. The cold metal throbbed faintly, its poison ready to be unleashed. He hesitated only a heartbeat, knowing the cost, knowing what it would take from him.
