AISLYNThe second shot tears free from my hand before the echo of the first has fully died.

The recoil bites into my palm, familiar, controlled. I keep the gun steady, still aimed at the same place, his chest, his heart, because hesitation is a luxury I cannot afford. The sound is louder this time, sharper, as if the world itself flinches.

Everything freezes.

Not just the fighting. Not just the warriors mid-strike, claws bared, weapons half-raised. Even the air seems to lock in place, thick and ...