"You... traitorous dog," Veylara spat, her body shaking as she tried to force her legs to lift her. She applied a sudden, frantic burst of physical pressure to the spear shaft, but her muscles simply refused to obey. The dead weight of her own flesh felt like a mountain pinning her down.
"To dare betray your own tribe... on the field of war... the ancestors will turn your bones to ash!"
"The ancestors?" Thorne mocked, his voice rising in an ecstatic, unhinged sneer as he stepped a fraction closer, still not daring to step close, even though he was in the wall of shields his personal guards maintained around him.
"The ancestors are dead, Veylara! They died the moment you let that black-armored monster turn our valley into his personal playground! Look at him!"
Thorne pointed a long, gnarled finger toward the center of the flats, where Sol remained leaning heavily on his sapphire blade, entirely drained.
