Emmanuelle had never heard of dark magic before. In her mind, such forbidden sorcery was the stuff of human folklore, not something that existed among vampires. So when the shaman mentioned it, she nearly laughed out loud. It seemed absurd.
But Queen Isolde took it seriously—far too seriously. Her eyes widened with desperation. "Tell me more about this... forbidden magic," she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.
The shaman, a woman well into her nineties, was draped in vibrant, mismatched fabrics from head to toe. She gave a slow, chilling grin—small, but enough for Emmanuelle to notice from across the room.
Emmanuelle stepped forward, her voice sharp with authority. "Hey! What are you plotting? You do realize you're speaking to the nation's queen, right? If you try anything foolish, I can have you beheaded right here and now."
