Her final, terrifying words echoed in my mind: '...in a giant, custom-built vault... filled with all our money!'
I was still reeling from the psychic whiplash of her ambition, my core humming with a low-grade, existential dread. I had just been shown a horrifying vision of my future as a corporate mascot for a chain of nap-themed resorts, and I needed a moment to process.
FaeLina, however, did not need a moment. Her mind, having already blueprinted a five-year plan for global comfort domination, had already moved on to the next, more immediate problem.
"Alright, team!" she declared, her voice snapping with a new, business-like authority that cut through the team's stunned silence. "First things first. This masterpiece," she said, gesturing to the glowing, five-page invoice, "needs to be delivered to the Mages' Guild immediately!"
