"She's gone," I muttered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "That thing standing there isn't Velra anymore."
Amelia's grip tightened on her staff. "Then what is it?"
The firelight reflected in her wide eyes—orange and gold, flickering with fear. I didn't answer. Because the truth was worse than anything she could imagine.
Velra moved.
No, twitched.
A sharp, unnatural motion—like a puppet yanked by tangled strings. Her head tilted to one side, neck cracking with an awful sound, and the flames that surrounded her pulsed as if breathing.
Then she smiled.
It wasn't Velra's smile. It was something wearing her face.
---
"A perfect body."
Velra's words cut through the crackling air like a blade. Her tone was calm—melodic, even—but so empty it made my skin crawl.
"Infinite mana. Light, agile muscles. Hundreds of times better than the worthless original."
The way she said it—clinical, detached—sounded less like admiration and more like a scientist describing a specimen.
