"Who was the High Priestess who told you such a thing? Can you name her?" Carlos asked. Though he had glimpsed fragments from the past, the face of the High Priestess had remained shrouded, just beyond reach.
"Her name was Ophelia Labrinth," Mabel answered.
At the mention of that name, a knowing smirk curled on Carlos' lips. He slipped a hand into his coat pocket and retrieved his phone. With a few taps, he pulled up an image and turned the screen toward her.
"Did she look like this?" he asked, holding the phone out.
Mabel leaned forward, her breath hitching at the sight. "Yes," she confirmed instantly. "That's her. She was… known for her knowledge, her foresight. Though not many in the capital knew her name back then, she was revered in the witches' circles. I suppose she was even more famous among your kind."
Carlos slowly returned the phone to his coat pocket and met her gaze.
"Yes, Your Majesty. She was well known," he said. "But not for the reasons you think."
