Lucivar looked at the eldest with a devilish gaze.
And the eldest knew from that gaze alone that she was on her last ground, troubling Lucivar any more than this would be unwise, as what awaits beyond that was only death. Not only for her, but also for her young and cute brothers.
She can't have that.
'But… But I really don't know—what he's talking about,' the eldest bit her lower lip hard, pondering hard to find out what Lucivar was talking about. 'He sensed something from me? What? I have nothing on me, and I'm not in any way special.'
"I…" the eldest stammered, afraid. "I really don't know…"
"You know, after my resurrection and good mood, I have achieved the patience of a saint. But that still has its limits. If you don't tell me what it is on you that made my senses flare, I don't know…" Lucivar mumbled, his eyes turned to Rory and Mory. "Your little brothers… they're starting to look appetizing, and I don't mind a snack right now."
