Miranda's footsteps echoed sharply across the polished floor, each stride taut with frustration. She moved back and forth in the wide, gleaming office, her fists clenching and unclenching as though she were trying to crush the words that kept slipping past her lips.
"Dark guild… dark guild…" she muttered under her breath, the repetition thick with bitterness.
The room around her was vast, its design sleek and modern.
A tall window stretched across the far wall, flooding the office with pale daylight that reflected off the glass desk in the center.
The desk itself was orderly—no clutter, only neatly stacked documents, a sleek tablet, and a single fountain pen resting precisely parallel to the edge.
Behind it sat a large, high-backed office chair, upholstered in black leather that gleamed faintly under the light.
Seated in that chair was a woman whose very presence seemed to draw the eye.
Her hair was long and wavy, cascading past her shoulders in soft black ripples.
