A wide, triumphant grin marred my face for a brief moment. It was malicious too.
I heard the water ripple as White Feather pulled herself out of it. I did not glance back; instead, I kept my gaze forward, my expression stripped of emotion.
She stepped onto the stone floor, and for a moment the silence was deafening.
"It's strange…"
Her voice was warmer, more tender than what I had heard in the hall earlier today—or even a few moments ago.
"Your touch… is strange. It's maddening, but surprisingly enough, it's the closest thing to satisfaction I've felt in two hundred years."
She released my hand, and I slowly turned toward her. She lifted her own hands, staring at her palm.
"The demands of being this… are a curse. I knew it and was willing to pay the price, but I was a foolish summoner back then. No amount of essence is ever enough. No amount of food is ever enough. Nothing is ever enough. My soul is a gluttonous whirlwind that wants to consume and destroy everything."
