Amon held your chin tightly between his fingers, his face inches away from yours. His mask concealed his expression, his eyes giving no emotion. His other hand reached up, his thumb pressing against your forehead. He paused for a moment.

You do not seem to fear me, little bender. His voice is raspy, echoing in the empty room. He pulled you closer, his free hand sliding to the back of your neck. You do not fear your bending being taken away…. He whispers, his low voice ringing through you.