That development… that flicker of hope… it was snatched from his hands almost as quickly as it had sparked to life. Again. And again. Each time more brutal than the last.
The deaths—there were so many. And the Sentinel showed no hint of mercy. At some point, Auren realized they followed a pattern. Each time he managed to get back on his feet, to gather his breath and resolve, the Sentinel would end him again.
Cruelly. Methodically. As if trying to find the precise moment he'd stop getting up altogether.
Auren, for all his torment, found himself wondering the same thing.
Through all the pain, all the deaths that rewound like a cursed loop, he clung to one goal.
Get to the throne.
Clashing head-on with the creature was suicidal. He'd tried it—more than once. Each attempt earned him another gruesome, bone-shattering death. He wouldn't recommend it.
