Ophelia set her teacup down, her gaze distant as she recalled the eerie encounter. "Viserra spoke of unrest among the spirits of those wronged—witches who were unjustly executed. She believes their souls are trapped, unable to find peace. She asked me to help release them."
Dante's brow furrowed in thought. "And you believe this is something you must do immediately, despite your condition?"
Ophelia nodded slowly. "I do, Dante. I can't ignore their suffering. I feel a responsibility to help them find peace, to end their torment."
Dante sighed, his concern deepening. "Very well, Your Grace. We will do everything we can to support you. But please, promise me you'll prioritize your health and the wellbeing of your child."
Ophelia smiled softly, touched by his unwavering loyalty. "I promise, Dante. I'll be careful."
As the afternoon waned, Ophelia allowed herself to relax, finding solace in the quiet of the cottage and the presence of her trusted companions.
