Theron walked into a room with somber lighting, Peak Elder Lotus by his side. Up ahead, the slumped back of an old woman stood.
Grand Elder Macie—or rather, now, Matriarch Macie—stood in silence, seemingly not noticing their presence.
Theron's pupils constricted.
BANG.
It was too late to react, a withered hand taking his throat a moment later, causing his feet to dangle in the air, unable to gain any purchase.
There was a convoluted, contradictory, dull sharpness in the Matriarch's eyes. It was like she had both lost her mind and yet was entirely focused on a singular task at the same time.
Her gaze landed on the spatial ring on Theron's finger and she grasped it with her free hand, ripping it off. In a flashing instant, her mind had already run through it all, her Third Eye brazenly flooding over Theron's body at the same time. But…
She found nothing at all.
