The crystal pulsed once in Dia's hand, and the world ripped open.
Dia dropped to her knees on cool black stone, gasping, her body coated in blood and rain. Her breath came in small, silent shudders. The teleportation surge lingered in her bones like static. Dia's vision was blurry from the sudden teleportation; she clutched her chest as it wildly pounded. A sense of fear, the silence bringing a different type of terror.
But there were no screams now. No voices. Only the hush of the Citadel's innermost chamber—silent, suffocating, sacred.
"Welcome home," a voice said.
Dia raised her head.
"M-Master?"
Leonhardt sat on the edge of his bed, with legs crossed loosely as he watched her in silence, his arms resting casually at his sides. She noticed his long black hair was loose, down his body, covered in marks... the marks of passion. A woman's marks. He looked down at her with his red eyes, illuminated by the small brazier burning beside him.
He was naked.
