Seraphina's POV
The stench of blood and rot hung heavy in the air. I stood at the edge of what had once been a thriving forest clearing, now reduced to a grotesque tableau of withered vegetation and darkened soil. At the center of this corruption stood Isabeau, her small form almost childlike against the backdrop of devastation she'd created.
"Seraphina," she said, her voice deceptively sweet. "What an unexpected pleasure."
Blood dripped from her fingertips, pooling at her feet. The viscous liquid didn't seep into the ground; instead, it hovered just above the surface, ready to serve its master's will.
"Isabeau." I kept my voice level, bored even. "I see you've been busy."
Her eyes narrowed, those ancient eyes in that perpetual child's face. "A century of absence, and that's all you have to say? No apologies for abandoning our kind?"
I stepped forward, deliberately crushing withered grass beneath my boots. "I wasn't aware I needed your permission to live my life."
