Talon Willow’s rage feels raw and justified—her grandfather and father murdered by the same man who now sips poison like tea. The candlelit cave, the shattered vial, the *thud* of her fist hitting his chest… all scream tragic inevitability. Yet he laughs? 😳 In Iron Fist, Blossoming Heart, power isn’t earned—it’s stolen, then twisted. Her final lunge? Not victory. Just the first drop of a bloodier storm.