Thorn staggered forward, blood dripping from a dozen shallow cuts. His legs trembled, but he kept moving.
He had to.
Giving up now would be an insult to the effort Ren had taken to keep him alive to this point. Giving up now would be a spit in the face of their entire journey to the Eighth Peak to give him power.
As much as he wanted to stop, he had to keep moving.
His breath wheezed in and out of his lungs, shallow and raw. The run through the rings had drained him. The mountain air was thin. The cold seeped into his fingers.
But more than any of that, the Fury didn't let him breathe.
She circled him, blindfold swaying with every fluid step. Her claws gleamed in the moonlight, untouched by blood, as if even that refused to stain her.
Thorn raised his bone arm again. His fingers ached. His muscles screamed.
She tilted her head.
"You know this is pointless." She said, her voice calm. "You're not your friend. You're not her. You're the weakest link."
