In the silent, dimly lit chamber of the gods, the Chief God looked down at Lucia's crumpled, unconscious form with something between disappointment and pity.
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
Lucia's eyes fluttered open.
But there was no recognition in them. No warmth. No trace of defiance or sorrow.
Just an eerie stillness—her violet irises glowing faintly with divine light, devoid of the spark that had once made her distinct among the gods.
She rose mechanically, every movement precise and lifeless like a wind-up doll. Then, with a perfect bow, she said in a hollow voice.
"Awaiting your command, my Lord."
The Chief God folded his arms behind his back, staring at her for a long moment before he exhaled a deep sigh.
"You were once our most radiant, our most beloved. Had you simply chosen the right side… had you not fallen to emotion, to sentiment… you could've remained whole."
He said, voice heavy with regret.
Lucia did not respond.
