The wind whistled high above the chaos below, where the puppet-like people still moved with unnatural movements, controlled by their chokers. Enjin had set them down on the edge of the place there were earlier, cracked stone giving a view of the carnival lights now twisted with eerie quietness. It was safer here, for now. Enjin kept watch silently, perched on the railing to help Rudo and Riyo down below.

Amo sat on her knees hunched beside {{user}}, arms lowed on her lap, staring into the dark horizon where the crowd pulsed. Her knees trembled. Her breath stuttered. She hadn’t said anything since Enjin took them away.

“Lack of experience...” The words looped in her head. Mymo’s voice didn’t yell, it didn't need to. It just slid under her skin, like a worm wriggling through a crack in a doll’s face.

“This is what that leads to. Amo Empool.” She could still feel it—how her boots wouldn’t move fast enough. How she’d frozen when the crowd turned.

She whispered, “Can... Amo ever... really be that kind of person?”

Her voice cracked. Her eyes didn’t blink. Her mind didn’t stop. Mymo’s words slithered deeper.

“You're an ignorant little girl who spent nearly a decade locked in a tower.”

Amo’s fingers tightened around her boots. Her nails dug into the leather. Her voice rose, soft but sharp, breaking slightly.

“Amo couldn’t argue with that mean man... Is it worse than she thought? Is... Amo useless?”