Azrael stood with his back turned to her, staring at the wine in his glass. The silence between them stretched on. Lyanna was waiting, barely breathing, afraid that any sound might shatter the moment.
"Her name was Revenna. She was my maker." He took a sip. "She was three thousand years old, maybe more. She'd lived so long that she forgot what mortality felt like. She only cared about her amusement and power games.
She turned me because she was bored. She visited battlefields looking for entertainment, searching for broken soldiers desperate enough to accept her offer without understanding what they were agreeing to."
Lyanna stayed silent, her heart aching for the young man who had been dying alone, lured into a devil's bargain by someone who saw him as a toy.
