Milim hit the ground rolling, fire already gathering at her fingertips before her boots even found traction.
She leapt to her feet, spinning into a fighting stance—breath ragged, eyes burning with energy.
"Alright, Tower. I don't know what you've got planned for me, but I'm not in the mood for a slow lecture!"
The space around her was bizarre.
No floors. No sky.
Just a storm.
A chaotic, swirling maelstrom, stretching forever in every direction. Lightning danced in slow motion. Winds screamed like wolves. The clouds were black, red, and burning blue.
At the center of it all: a pulsing sphere of energy, hovering like a heart suspended in the void.
Milim squinted.
She knew that energy.
It was hers.
A voice rolled from above, like thunder grinding through bone.
"You are fury given flesh. Rage, barely restrained. You carry the battle forward—but you are not its master."
Milim laughed. "Rude. But fair."
The energy pulsed once.
