Theron drove his heel into the ground with everything he had, power and desperation colliding in a single, reckless act.
For a fleeting instant, he thought, he hoped, that the stone beneath him might crack, that the circle would falter, that something…anything… would give.
Nothing did.
The sigils beneath his feet pulsed softly, almost mockingly, their glow steady and unwavering, as though his defiance meant nothing at all. The circle held him as firmly as before, unshaken, untouched.
The sound of his strike faded into a silence that felt far too final.
Something inside him splintered.
That had been his last attempt, the last thread of instinct he could grasp, the last echo of possibility… and it had failed.
Aveline was out there. In danger… Alone… Waiting for him to rescue her…
And he… He was trapped by his own father… And he could not even free himself.
