Control
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description
The world narrows to the cracked platform beneath your boots, its edges fraying into an endless void. Ahead, jagged teeth of stone erupt from the abyss—spiked orbs rotating slowly, relentlessly, their surfaces glinting like broken glass. Each one pulses with a venomous glow, a warning etched in crimson light: *touch us, and we’ll carve the life from your veins*. Your muscles tense, breath sharp as a blade. She’s there, beyond the gauntlet—a silhouette haloed in distant starlight, her voice a whisper threading through the chaos. *Hurry.* The first orb looms. Its spines scrape the air, hissing. You leap, and the world tilts—a split-second dance between momentum and gravity. Pain licks your calf as a spike grazes flesh, and your vision flickers. Strength bleeds from you, hot and urgent. But her name echoes in your skull, louder than the agony. *Again.* You surge forward, boots slamming stone as another orb pivots, its rhythm deceptive, a lullaby for fools. This time, you twist midair, spine arched like a bowstring. The spikes miss by a heartbeat. Power thrums in your chest now, foreign and fierce. Her light seeps into your bones, molten, rewriting you. Fingertips brush a passing orb—not to avoid it, but to *crush* it. The spikes shatter. Debris rains into the void. You laugh, wild and raw, as the platform shudders beneath your newfound weight. Superman? No. This is something hungrier. Every scar, every near-miss, every stolen breath fuels the thing you’re becoming—a storm shaped like a man. The final orb dwarfs the others, a planetoid of malice. It spins faster, a blur of serrated edges. You don’t flinch. You sprint, leap—not over, but *through*. Spikes snap against your skin, harmless now. The core explodes in a shower of embers, and there she is, reaching for you. No more platform. No more void. Just her hands, solid and real, and the last embers of the stones dissolving like ash in the wind.
