Something changed in Morgana's gaze.
It wasn't immediate like a surge of anger. Nor explosive like the hatred she had been carrying since the beginning of that night. It was worse. Much worse.
Something simply went blank inside her.
Damon realized this the instant she turned her gaze from the Duke's imprisoned figure to her own mother. Until that moment, there had been conflict within Morgana. Pain. Hesitation hidden beneath the anger. Part of her still saw the Duchess as family, even after everything.
But now…
Now she finally understood.
The woman before her was no longer trying to save Arven.
She had already sacrificed Arven long ago.
The black chains bound to the Duke's body pulsed violently along with the runes scattered throughout the entire mansion. Every wall. Every column. Every chandelier. Every piece of that house was connected to that man. The very heart of the Arven lineage had been transformed into a living ritualistic core.
