Andromeda's grip on Dennis's throat slowly loosened, her fingers releasing their vice-like hold. The room seemed to exhale a collective breath, the oppressive tension beginning to dissipate like morning mist beneath the sun's rays. As the tempest of her anger ebbed away, Andromeda took several measured, deep breaths, her chest rising and falling with each deliberate inhalation. Her hazel eyes, previously filled with a fiery intensity, began to regain their usual clarity. She gently flipped her hair away and sat on the settee, staring down at 'Dennis'.
The fire spectre, its presence no longer challenged by the princess's wrath, now sat as if in a trance, its borrowed form still and lifeless. The air grew colder, an unsettling chill settling in the room, as if the very walls and floors were haunted by the encounter.
