Graemory's gaze bore into Clyde. Her crimson eyes gleaming with suspicion. "How do you know about the Black Wall, Clyde?" she asked, her tone sharp, almost accusatory.
Clyde merely shrugged, his expression unbothered. "Like I said, I have my sources."
His nonchalant response didn't sit well with Graemory. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at him. Her scrutinizing looks almost tangible.
"I don't have to explain myself, do I?" Clyde said after a moment with calm but firm voice. He already knew the answer; the question was merely a formality.
Graemory exhaled heavily, breaking the silence. "You're such a mystery, Clyde." Her voice softened slightly, but it carried a note of warning. "That unpredictability of yours might work in your favor sometimes, but don't think it won't be your mistake. There are higher beings out there who hate that attitude of yours. You could be poking at forces that don't like defiance."
