Iskaleth looked up at Sylas and met his gaze with as much firmness as she could force into herself.
Her heart was trembling hard enough that she could feel it against the inside of her chest, but she tightened her grip on that fear and refused to let it spill any further.
Fate still showed her nothing but darkness. The Reaper remained behind her, its scythe resting against her throat, every possible path she could see still ending in the same cold certainty. But that was exactly the problem, wasn't it? She had spent her entire life allowing Fate to tell her what was possible, what was wise, what was foolish, and now the first time she found herself standing before something that seemed to break those rules, her instinct had been to fold.
