Though the shame of retreat clawed at her insides, the indignation bubbled up—she had spoken with unwavering confidence, asserting her strength throughout the battle. Yet here she stood on the precipice of defeat, forced by forces beyond her control to withdraw. It was a distortion of pride, a bitter taste of humiliation as she reluctantly accepted her new reality.
With a heavy heart and swirling turmoil within her, the Banshee cast one last chilling glance at August before turning away. Her form began to dissolve, dissipating into the surrounding shadows like ink fading into water. The darkness wrapped around her, enfolding her in a veil of secrecy, as if she were slipping into another world.
