The first Lava Ant had bitten him.A scream, raw and primal, built in his throat, a pressure valve demanding release. He clenched his jaw so hard he felt a tooth might crack. Tears of pure, undiluted agony welled in his eyes, blurring the faintly glowing dome above.Silence. Aeltharion’s command echoed in his mind, now a lifeline. You will not scream. You will not move.The burning spread, a wildfire contained within the single limb. It was a pain designed to break minds, to make the strongest warrior beg for mercy.Zarek, his body trembling violently, his knuckles white where he gripped his knees, threw his head back and stared blindly at the stone eye above. He did not scream. He did not move.He let the fire consume him, and in its heart, he began the terrible, agonizing work of finding his silence. The pain from the ant bite was a forge, and Zarek’s will was the metal being hammered upon its anvil. For an hour, maybe an eternity, the world was nothing but that single, burning leg.