The sound of the creaky door brought Elvira's awareness back to the present. Her uncle had opened the door to a spacious room with ample furniture and other items. The chamber's unusually chilly temperature reminded her of the coldness in Wivior's eyes. She rubbed her stinging, puffy red eyes. His words had wounded her, and her heart was bleeding.
Wivior regretted ever coming close to her. He regretted ever loving her. The woman he fell for never existed. He called her a liar and a master manipulator. He loathed her existence and wished to kill her with his own hands. Then why did her cruel heart still want to spare him every last suffering? Why did the thought of him getting tortured tear her heart apart? After what he had said, why did she still want to sacrifice everything for him?
"Elvira, dear." Eldritch offered her a handkerchief. "Don't be affected by what that wizard had to say about you. He'll meet his demise soon. I will make sure of that."
