The silence in the Specimen Hall was heavy, broken only by the dripping of green fluid from the shattered tank.
Elena stood before the remains of Alice. The High Elf diplomat, once a voice of peace, was now just a pile of wet flesh and metal on the cold floor.
She didn't cry. High Elves believed that tears shed for the dead only weighed down their journey to the World Tree.
Instead, she knelt.
She placed her hand on the cold stone.
A soft, green light pulsed from her palm, not the harsh laser of judgment she had used moments ago, but the gentle warmth of spring.
From the cracks in the concrete, a single white lily bloomed. It grew rapidly, curling around Alice's lifeless hand.
"Return to the roots, sister," Elena whispered, closing his staring eyes. "Your cage is broken."
She stood up. Her face was pale, but her eyes were dry and furious.
"I am ready, Professor."
Damien nodded. "Then let's move. The basement is waiting."
