My desperation mounts. Iro’s Will pulses. Beneath my feet. Under my hand as I grip the frame desperately. I lock a mental picture of the chariot in my mind. Connection. Just like with the boulder earlier: one moment I can merely sense the Will and the next it’s mine, an extension of me, as surely as if I’d imbued it myself. My chariot creaks and settles back onto both wheels. Across from me, Iro is almost comically confused as he looks across in shock. No telling whether he can no longer sense the Will, or whether he simply can’t control it anymore.
FUCK YEAH VIS
