Maria stood before the shrunken Solomon's Gate, her ruby-red eyes narrowing in disgust as she studied the grotesque object pulsating before her. The gate throbbed and writhed like a living organism, far removed from any traditional craftsmanship.
"What an utterly vile creation," she murmured, her voice a low melody of disdain. Her gaze traced the gate's distorted edges, every inch of it twisting and squirming. She extended a hand, hesitated for a moment, then drew it back as though afraid to sully herself on the malformed surface.
Her lips curled in distaste. "Still, within this repugnant monstrosity lies my prey. If I must endure such indignity to claim him, so be it. No obstacle will deny me what is rightfully mine."
The air seemed to hold its breath as Maria stepped forward, her every movement deliberate, purposeful.
