The city was a machine of cold glass and grinding gears, and Elara was the grit that it tried to spit out. They called them "The Hollowed"—those whose spirits had been deemed inefficient for the Great Cog. The Enforcers, draped in chrome and carrying rhythmic pulse-rifles, tracked her through the neon-slicked alleys.
"Shoot me down," she whispered, her eyes burning with a steady, unbreakable light. "But I won't fall. I am titanium."
She was cornered in a dead-end plaza. The lead Enforcer stepped forward, his voice a distorted boom through his mask. "Lower your defenses. Your frequency is disruptive. We will silence the noise." david_guetta_titanium_ft_sia_lyrics
"You shout it out," Elara whispered to herself, her voice a raspy tether to her fading courage. "But I can't hear a word you say."
A faint, metallic shimmer rippled across her skin. The energy of the blast didn't tear through her; it washed over her like water against a cliffside. She stood taller, her skin glowing with a dull, silver luster. The city was a machine of cold glass
Elara looked up, her eyes catching the flicker of a broken billboard. She felt the weight of every insult, every attempt to break her down, and she felt them transform. They weren't wounds anymore; they were fuel.
Another volley of fire hit her—red pulses of heat and blue streaks of electricity. She walked through the storm, each hit ringing out like a hammer on an anvil. She wasn't just surviving; she was reflecting. The city's attempts to destroy her were only proving how indestructible she had become. "Shoot me down," she whispered, her eyes burning
"I’m talking loud," she said, her voice rising above the hum of the city. "Not saying much."