The dark mist coalesced, wrapping Silver Sylvester's house in a suffocating shroud of obsidian. Within this shifting gloom, Mathias's eyes unraveled into an abyssal void, the whites vanishing completely.
From the outside, it was impossible to believe that this creature of primordial night was the same Duke Luceron—the refined, noble figure who graced court halls with an aristocratic chill.
He advanced toward Elvira, the shadows trailing his movements like loyal executioners. Her body reacted before her mind could process the danger, a violent tremor coursing through her marrow as it remembered the phantom grip of his hands around her throat from the past.
Yet, she did not retreat. She held her ground, forcing her features into a defiant, poisonous smile.
"That time," Elvira rasped, her supernatural strength straining against her ribs, "my power was dormant. It was absent. But now... neither you nor anyone else on this cursed earth will stand in my way."
She pounced.
