AMALiA
To be fair, Amalia had not anticipated a request like that. Kill her tools- as though they were just that, tools instead of people, husks of metal and broken promises left behind to rot. Stopping short along the path, the girl clutches her rose in her hand, almost hard enough to pierce her skin as her dark eyes widen in disbelief. "But they're people," Amalia breathes, though she can car the doubt in her own voice. Didn't she just tell Sam something similar, that the Voice takes souls and creates the dead?But to kill them- Amalia shakes her head. Surely this is not what Ludo wants? What Mort wants? "You can't," she whispers, staring at Roana, her right hand flexing around her staff. "Roana, that's murder. Mort wouldn't want that." Vi wouldn't want that.
the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
