"Who is this 'old friend' you speak of?" Isabella pressed, her voice echoing with an insatiable curiosity.
Olivia sighed, a sharp, jagged sound of irritation. "Do your questions never cease? It matters not; you wouldn't know him even if I carved his name into the floor. You will meet him soon enough. For now, focus on this mess."
As Isabella retreated, Kira moved with the silent, terrifying efficiency of a shadow, erasing every trace of the carnage until the room looked as pristine as a sanctuary. Olivia sat alone, her gaze fixed on the crystal orb, her mind spiraling into a dark vortex of thought. What poison did I consume that failed to claim my life? she mused. If Elvira truly wanted me dead, I would be cold in the earth by now. What game is she playing with me?
"My Lady..." Kira's voice splintered the silence.
Olivia didn't look up. "What is it?"
"There is a woman at the gates, shrouded in a heavy veil. She calls herself Mayla. She demands an audience with you."
