The dagger punctured Akasha’s chest. Carissa had expected her dagger to thud against bone and slice flesh, but beneath her skin, there seemed to be… nothing.
Red engulfed Akasha’s irises, and Carissa lurched back from her. Black fog rushed from everywhere—her wounds, her mouth, her nose—producing a terrible screeching noise as it fled. Akasha’s skin disintegrated, joining the whirlwind of darkness. And then it all melted in mid air. There was no sign Akasha had ever been there, save the dagger on the floor.
Carissa stared where Akasha had last been. “She’s gone?”
Elon strode towards her, his body heat warming her side. “She is.”
“The lockdown is over?”
“It is.”
Her shoulders sagged. “So I’m done.”
“No.”
She whirled to face him. “No?”
“You yourself said you’re a warrior, didn’t you?”
She folded her arms. “I fail to see how that’s relevant.”
“Warriors don’t fight for a single battle; they fight until the war is won.”