Ever since they left the undercroft, Keith stole a glance at Nathan from how he kept up his pace faster than ever, with a grim look on his face. Yet his curiosity could only go so far, for he was in no position to ask of him.
Somehow, he suddenly had palpitations, as his gut seemed to drop from the crazy train of thoughts that crashed into his mind.
Upon reaching Mystique's bed-chamber, he knocked in such a hurry, then opened the door.
"My Lady—"
To his sight greeted Mystique, whose face painted with strokes of pitch-black and patches of goo splattered onto her face while wearing a robe that was now smeared with ash and charcoal.
With this, Keith seemed deep-rooted in his stead. Stunned from what happened to her—and fortunately enough, there neither were any gashes, burns, nor wounds etched against her alabaster skin.
"Keith? You're here?" She muttered, but her voice went hoarse, almost too breathy.
