"Don't you dare count me out just yet! [Marionette]!" Vaelira shouted.
A surge of violet energy burst from her core, spiraling into the air like phantom threads, each one imbued with the raw, untamed power of the arcane. It was a terrifying display of her mastery, a dance of domination woven from pure magic.
Then, those threads latched onto Leon. His body jerked violently like a marionette on strings. His arms were ruined, useless, his every muscle protesting the unseen command, but that didn't matter.
The strings pulled.
And like a puppet, Leon obeyed.
His broken fingers twitched.
Then, they wrapped around his sword hilt.
Agony ripped through him, a silent wail echoing only in his mind. He tried to scream out loud, but his throat had no voice. Vaelira's eyes gleamed coldly. "Leon," she whispered, "Swing."
His body moved against his will.
His feet dragged forward, his legs trembling, his ruined arms shaking as he lifted the blade that felt heavier than the world itself.
