Turning slowly, Serah walked calmly into the vault, each step echoing with a measured finality. The flames that had raged around her began to die away, the fiery wings folding into nothingness, the infernal blaze of her hair softening back to its natural wavy red. But though the fire faded, the aura of power clung to her like a storm that refused to pass. Her eyes, glowing with that predatory crimson light, never once left Drosmir.
The man's breath quickened. The realization struck him harder than any blade—the four best guards he had trusted with his life had all been cut down by one woman, almost effortlessly. His trembling grew worse, his widened eyes darting behind the mask as he jolted in panic. When Serah's unflinching gaze locked on him, he recoiled with a startled yelp and stumbled backward, collapsing onto his rear behind the fortress of coin bags.
