"She is a human," Ray growled, voice low and guttural. "Not some toy for you twisted monsters to poke and prod."
The woman didn't flinch. She tilted her head, wearing a cold, practiced indifference like a mask. Her lips curled into a half-smile, the kind reserved for ignorant children or—worse—mers she believed to be beneath her.
"To you, maybe," she said with a chuckle that didn't reach her eyes. "But to me… she's a living mystery. A miracle. You know what one drop of her blood can do?" Her voice dropped lower, almost reverent. "It can heal anything. Wounds. Disease. Maybe even time itself."
She took a step closer to the glass chamber, her hand trailing along its surface like it was sacred.
"So tell me, what's more valuable—her life? Or her blood?"
As she spoke, her tone twisted—warped into something inhuman. Something that licked at the edges of sanity. Something… satanic.
