Azalea stared at me, then at Selene, her face a mask of utter bewilderment. The fear of having her secret exposed was now eclipsed by the dawning horror of what she had just revealed—and by the sheer, unfiltered weirdness of the two people standing in front of her.
"Playable character mode?" she echoed, almost disbelieving. "What in the actual cosmos are you two talking about?!" Her voice, though still shaky, carried more confusion than fear now. The mention of Arthur—the Archon of Naschacht—had clearly short-circuited her ability to process anything else.
But Selene wasn't paying attention anymore. Not to Azalea's panic, not to her questions. Her eyes, once cold and calculating, had locked onto the ring on Azalea's finger. They now glittered with sharp, unnatural intensity, like sunlight refracting off shattered glass. It was the gaze of a predator who'd just spotted a long-sought prize: stunned, ravenous, and ready to strike.
