Sold to the Devil
Thalia muttered, her voice nearly lost in the dense air.
"That's the point," Emilia replied, pushing a cluster of hanging moss out of her way. Her tone was calm, almost eerily so. She hadn’t said much since they left the clearing where Mochi was wounded. Now, the bloodied edges of her sleeves had dried to her skin, but she wore them like armor.
Mochi walked beside her, every few steps casting small orbs of light that floated around them like fireflies. “The Mire feeds on memory,” she warned. “It pulls your regrets to the surface. Your guilt. That’s how it gets in.”
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