Draven stood before Amberine, his tall frame casting a shadow across the room, his expression as unreadable as ever. His dark eyes bore into her, unwavering, as if waiting for her to justify her very existence. He remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice cold and demanding, slicing through the tension like a blade.
"Why are you here?"
Amberine swallowed, trying to gather her thoughts, her pulse racing under the intensity of his gaze. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. The events of the last few hours had drained her – the spectres, the constant chase, the panic of being lost in a place that seemed alive with malevolent magic – it all weighed down on her. Her mouth felt dry, her voice failing her, and she could only stand there, blinking up at Draven as if hoping he'd understand without explanation.
