Velra kept her gaze locked on the enemy, her body taut, every muscle ready to react.
Where eyes should have been, pale green flames flickered faintly within the lich's hollow sockets, swaying as if stirred by unseen currents.
'...?'
Something felt off.
She sharpened her senses, tuning in to the exchange unfolding nearby—and what she heard made her pause.
"It was a royal command."
"Of course. I'm well aware of your obsession with immortality," Faceless Imposter replied coolly. "But you failed. And when you did, the royal family discarded you."
"No!" The lich's voice cracked, echoing unnaturally through the cavern. "The royal family still awaits the results of my research! They promised—!"
"You know better than anyone," Faceless Imposter cut in, his tone almost gentle, "that it's nothing more than a hollow promise."
Velra clicked her tongue softly.
'Now he's dragging the dead into politics too.'
The lich's flames wavered violently.
Centuries of loyalty.
Centuries of work.
