It had all happened so fast. It was most likely because of her state of shock, but when he presses that gun to her helmet, itâs like she lost all control of her limbs. She was frozen, staring up at him as she screams at herself to move, to react â But itâs too late. A strangled shriek leaves her lips as the knife stabs into her shoulder, but she doesnât have long to do so before that strong hand clasps at her throat ; harshly cutting her sound short.
  Mutaâs already crying, tears pouring behind the helmet as she pries at his hand, desperately trying to free herself from his grip with no avail. But that method is instantly and replaced with pure instinctive terror. Terror in the form of raging arc energy as she grabs his leg and wrist, sending the vicious lighting through his frame.
  She was dangerously close to blacking out from her fear, and thus reacted much like a caged, prodded animal. She canât stop her sobbing, her whimpering, but she will not let him kill her.
Yorâs back arched as he hissed in pain. He stumbled back his hands shaking as he tried to regain his senses. âWell, didnât you little lights learn tricks.â he muttered his fingers curing tighter around Thornâs handle. âDo you know what itâs like?â He asked staring at her. He ran his thumb over the fingers.  âTo have all that you worked for, all your effort shunned.â He held up his gun shooting at the guardian.  âTo be called the villain because you had to make a greater choice. To loose your light?â He walked the warlock Thorn cozying up to her stomach as he pulled the trigger. âTo feel that light die and you did nothing? Perhaps you would like to feel your light die.â Yor said flicking at the helmet of the warlock. âWhere is your ghost?â He asked letting the wind move his cloak slightly. âWhere is the travelerâs light?â Â














