The mist closed around Carla like a coffin, thick and unyielding. Her scream echoed through the Realm, but it faded away quickly.
Maren lingered before her, her wolf shadow pacing all around Carla with liquid menace, its ember eyes never leaving her throat.
"You challenge me like you still have your Stool of Honour Carla," Maren murmured, her voice a purr of mockery. "But look at you now. Fragile. Mortal. Soft flesh wrapped around fading power."
Carla straightened, forcing her trembling legs into steadiness. She clenched her fists until her nails dissolved into her palm. "Do not mistake flesh for weakness. I laid down my wolf, yes, but it was by choice. My blood still remembers. My power has never faded"
"Ahhh…" she breathed, circling again. "So the old Liora is still in there. How sweet. But tell me, if blood remembers, why hide as Carla? Why bury yourself in mediocrity, cooking meals, serving a man, raising children, pretending to be human?"
