Another sword strike opened a gash across her shoulder, spinning her toward Noah's doorway with desperate momentum.
She gave a quick sideglance at Noah who stood there, his face etched with concern and terror. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.
I can't. I won't destroy his life for mine.
Lola shook her head with firm determination, even as blood dripped steadily from her wounds. The gesture was subtle but unmistakable—she was refusing his sanctuary.
He doesn't deserve to become a target because of my choices. Even if he is the one in the prophecy, he is still too weak, I should be able to survive and meet him in the future
, when he is strong enough.
"You are dead, Black Visage."
The declaration was like a royal decree that made the surrounding air seem heavier. Prince Malphas raised his blade, preparing to deliver a killing blow to the wounded figure before him.
This ends now.
