There, I saw her. Lysara was waiting for me, her eyes fixed on mine. She clung to my sleeve, still soaked with the creature's blood, and gently pulled me along.
That simple gesture said more than a thousand words. She could have left, gone her own way, ignored me. But she didn't. She waited for me. She recognized me. Maybe that was the real reward.
I followed her without hesitation. After all, it was the first time she'd done something like this, and it was obvious she wanted to show me something.
Then, she made a gesture, and I saw her new ability unfold before my eyes. She could create an excess of herself and split it off.
It was a birth. An act of pure will.
Not a skill, not magic. A silent manifesto.
She was no longer waiting to be given a shape. She was forging one herself.
One of her arms detached from her body, walking beside her like a perfect extension of her will.
