Chain My Heart Too, Gamma
She’s strong—stronger than anyone gives her credit for—but even she can’t hide how much this is breaking her.
Tona’s voice rises and falls in chants, her fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air, her eyes locked on Lala. I notice the small tools she has laid around—crystals, a small dagger with runes, a bowl of water with herbs floating in it, and a few candles. Each seems meaningless to the untrained eye, but I know they’re part of her ritual. She had given a grim looking portion to drink earlier.
Lala trembles, a sharp intake of breath, and I reach out instinctively, then stop. My hand hovers over her shoulder, but I don’t touch her. I can’t.
Sikat na Kabanata