It was time to stop talking.

Like a luminous eye observing us from above, the moon was heading toward the center.

The air felt thick and heavy despite the frigid temperature in the room. It smelled like old blood and charred metal.

Everyone in the room had reached their limit.

Maya had a pale, perspiring face.

Selene was holding her blade with trembling hands.

We had been struggling, looking for a way out, and praying for a miracle for days.

Selene approached me.

She took my hand ...