In the deepest recesses of a realm forsaken by time, the Dark Sovereign sat upon her throne of onyx and shadow, a figure of infinite malice and elegance. Her crimson skin glistened faintly in the eerie light emanating from the abyssal cracks of the chamber, and her fiery hair flowed like molten lava down her back. The spiraling black horns atop her head shimmered faintly as her golden eyes narrowed, fixed on the swirling pool of dark energy before her.
Within the depths of the pool, an image wavered into view: Liria Silverthorn.
The girl's mismatched eyes, one green and the other amber, burned with a faint defiance even as her body sagged with exhaustion. Her midnight-black hair framed her face like a shroud, and her expression was colder than the Sovereign remembered.
"Ah," the Dark Sovereign murmured, her lips curling into a smile that was equal parts maternal and malevolent. "My daughter. How beautifully you are unraveling."
