recognize the scenario for what it is now—a recurring nightmare—and yet I’m still held powerless, still too slow to reach Tairn, still can’t force my consciousness to snap me awake. “I grow weary of this. Now wield,” the Sage whispers, his robes purple tonight. “Rip free. Show me the power you used to slay our forces above the trading post. Prove me right that you are a weapon worth watching, worth retrieving.” His hand hovers over mine but doesn’t touch me. “The one who watched thinks you’ll never yield, that we should kill you before you grow into your full abilities.”
Could be mindwork
