The chill that radiated from Sophie von Icevern was palpable, an icy tide sweeping into the lavish room. Her frost magic seeped into every corner, coiling around the delicate furniture, frosting the untouched goblets of wine, and biting at the edges of the polished floor. The room, adorned with all the comforts of an esteemed guest rather than a prisoner, seemed to shrink under the weight of her presence. Draven Arcanum von Drakhan, seated casually on a plush chair, appeared entirely unaffected by the cold. His pens hovered lazily in the air, etching invisible designs in the stillness, their faint glows the only movement in the room.
Sophie stepped closer, her boots clicking sharply against the frost-slicked floor. Her icy blue eyes burned with fury as she stared him down.
"Is this your new game, Draven?" Her voice cut through the silence like a shard of ice.
"Is Sharon's death a part of your grand plan?"
