The room seemed to tremble with tension as the sharp sound of a slap cut through the air. Young Eveloria's eyes snapped wide open, her heart pounding in her chest as she blinked away the haze of sleep. Before her stood an angry and imposing figure – her stepmother, Beatrice.
"How dare you fall sick? Do you know how much it costs to treat someone?" Beatrice's voice was a high-pitched, shrill symphony of anger that seemed to warp her usually stern face into something even more pinched and unkind. Her glare bore into Eveloria like a relentless storm. Eveloria winced, her cheek still stinging from the forceful impact of her mother's hand fan.
