Morgana's gaze, playful yet sinister, shifted between the two of them. One eye shimmered emerald, playful and curious, while the other, inky black, seemed to suck the very light from the surroundings.
Her cold voice sent shivers down their spines. "A gift you say? Tell me more, or she is next," she then lifted Zalya effortlessly into the air.
Her eyes darted back to Liam, the green one gleaming with mischief, "Tick-tock, darling. My friend here is not patient."
Liam's voice trembled, but there was a discernible edge to it. "If I give you what you want, will you let us go?"
Morgana replied in a frosty voice, "You talk so much, don't you? Just answer."
The shadows below Liam morphed into sharp spikes, then pierced his shoulder. Gritting his teeth against the pain, a realization dawned upon him. Simply answering her wouldn't guarantee their safety.
