"Still you listen to her." He says, annoyed as Gyre continues his line of questioning. The blade in his hand is bright enough to be uncomfortable to look at, and he begins pushing it forward against the wall. Small white cracks begin to form where they touch, growing out from where his blade is pressed.

"Killing the monster, permanently. Not just this year. Every year. A process that was interrupted." He answers, coldly.

"Something no one else can do." Something no one else would do.

Behind Gyre, behind the wall, the Wizard slumps down to sit on the ground. Something that Gyre may pick up on is, despite how tired she looks, she isn't breathing.

Was she ever breathing?