Chapter 16
The Price of Freedom
Lycar understands the sacrifice required. It is not merely his own life, but a surrender of his deepest fears and a willingness to embrace oblivion.
The air in the seventh circle tasted like ash and despair, a bitter tang that clung to my tongue and throat. Each breath was a struggle, a gritty reminder of the torment that permeated this place. The Weaver’s voice, a silken whisper laced with malice, coiled around me, not in my ears, but directly in my mind, a venomous caress. “You understand now, Lycar. The price of freedom is not paid in blood alone. It is paid in the surrender of self.”
I clenched my fists, knuckles white, the roughspun fabric of my tunic digging into my palms. Understand? Yes, I understood. The prophecy Elara had whispered, the fragmented visions I’d seen in the illusions, the sheer