Back in the jungle, Kyva slowly roused from her slumber, her eyes fluttering open as though reluctant to forsake their rest. In that very instant, she remembered she had only a day left to find the orb, and all drowsiness fled from her eyes.
Surely, she must have been grievously tired to have slept that long.
Yet when she tried to rise, she found her hands would not obey her, as though suddenly stuck together. A frown of pure confusion crossed her brows, and she lifted her hands into view, only to see that they had indeed been bound tight.
What the–?!
A jolt of alarm shot through her.
Who did this?
Shocked and wholly at loss as to what was going on, Kyva forced her body upright, ignoring the stiffness in her limbs.
Then she froze.
A blade gleamed inches from her face, its edge steady, deliberate and unmistakably lethal.
Slowly, she raised her eyes and found herself staring into the hardened gaze of Vera.
"You–"
"Don't move, slave."
