Lancet stared at Spectra, his mind spinning the words she had just said over and over. He looked back at the glass cylinder. "Are you sure?"
Spectra's face had gone completely, terrifyingly still. Her sunglasses were off, so her intense crimson eyes were wide and locked on the necklace.
"Yes, I am," she said with painful conviction. "I would know Sacramenta anywhere." Her hand rose unconsciously toward her chest, her fingers pressing lightly against the exact place where the heavy necklace had once rested.
"I told you I can feel it when it is close by. I can sense and recognize its aura." Her jaw tightened in suppressed rage. "That thing there is merely gold, steel, and a common crystal shaped to roughly resemble my pendant. It is not Sacramenta."
Lancet looked toward the stage again, his mind struggling to catch up with the revelation. If anyone asked him, the necklace looked just right.
