[VOLUME 15: THE PRIMORDIAL PILGRIMAGE][ARC 4: THE ILLUSIONS OF WHITE ASH]
The soul-bond was meant to be a sanctuary. A tether of warmth and absolute devotion that anchored Elara to the two most powerful beings in creation.
But right now, the bond was a conduit of pure, unfiltered agony.
Elara slumped against the smooth, impenetrable surface of the bone-glass mirror, her hands pressed flat against the dark barrier. Her breath hitched, a choked sob tearing from her throat as the dual wave of psychological torture slammed into her mind.
She could feel them. They weren't feeling physical pain; they were experiencing total, devastating emotional collapse.
"Watch them break, little sovereign," the Lady of White Ash whispered, her sweet, melodic voice drifting like poison smoke through the desolate graveyard of trees. "Gods are so easy to unmake. You only have to show them what they fear most."
Elara forced herself to look through the dark glass on her right.
