Mytheia pulsed, a cold, clinical glow radiating from within.
Azalea flinched as if the light itself had scorched her. Her breathing turned shallow, ragged. The color drained from her face, leaving her ghostly pale. This wasn't mere panic anymore—she was being dismantled, piece by piece.
Selene stepped closer, slow and deliberate, her voice dropping—each word carefully placed, like a scalpel I would use back then.
"Tell me, Azalea, are you truly willing to lose everything just to keep your secrets buried? Or are you curious enough to face them?"She extended Mytheia forward, her smile wicked and unwavering."Just a touch, my dear junior. Let's see how much light your past can handle."
