The clearing grew colder, the air thickening with tension as Thorne, Morgana, and Kael stood frozen in the face of the Lost's demand. The shadows cast by the creature stretched unnaturally, twisting like claws over the forest floor. Time itself seemed to stretch thin as the weight of their decision bore down on them, threatening to crush what resolve they had left.
"A soul," Thorne repeated under his breath, as if saying the words aloud might make the truth easier to grasp. He glanced down at Lyra, her fragile form lying still and pale against the dirt. The thought of losing her—after everything they had fought for—was unbearable. But to sacrifice one of their own to save her? The decision felt like an impossible weight pressing on his chest.
Kael broke the silence first, his voice low but fierce. "This is madness. There has to be another way." He looked to Morgana, desperate for an answer, but her face was set in a grim, unyielding mask.