Moreau laughed from her position near the artifact, the sound echoing off the stone walls like breaking glass. Her golden eyes gleamed in the amber light, predatory and victorious. The scaled skin of her left arm seemed to absorb the artifact's glow, making the obsidian-like surface shimmer with hidden power.
"How delightfully naive," she purred, running her normal hand along the edge of the artifact. "Did you think loyalty was about pretty speeches and dramatic gestures? Look at them, boy. Look at what real devotion looks like."
Pierre's gaze darted between his fallen comrades and Moreau's smug expression. Sweat trickled down his temple, mingling with the blood from a cut above his eyebrow. Each breath sent spikes of agony through his ribs, but he forced himself to remain conscious. He couldn't afford to black out now.
