Liria adjusted the black cloak around her shoulders as she made her way through the halls of the demon palace. The once-familiar warmth she felt walking through these corridors had dulled into something distant, detached. Her hair, now entirely jet-black, flowed behind her like a shadowy veil. It was sleek and perfect, but there was no trace of the silvery gleam that had once caught the light.
Her companions had noticed the change almost immediately. Enara, now more reserved herself, often glanced at Liria with concern, her lips pressed into a thin line as though debating whether to speak up. Daena, on the other hand, had grown far less subtle. She hovered more than usual, her violet eyes narrowing whenever Liria remained silent for too long.
