The Silent Minister clutched her shoulder, her face a mask of shock and disbelief. A dark red stain was spreading across the pure white fabric of her robe. Her perfect, untouchable peace had been broken by a simple, unexpected cut. The sight of her own blood seemed to shatter her calm completely.
"Impossible," she whispered, her voice no longer a serene melody but a shaky, breathy sound. "My peace... is absolute."
"Looks like you missed a spot," Scarlett replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She took a step forward, her daggers held low and ready.
The Minister looked from Scarlett's predatory grin to the determined faces of the rest of the team. The surprise on her face quickly turned into something else: cold, calculated panic.
She knew she had lost. Her ultimate weapon, her conceptual block, had failed. She was just a woman in a room with a group of very angry, very capable people who she had just spent ten minutes magically torturing.
