The safehouse was bathed in flickering candlelight as the group returned from the outskirts of Lyndara, dragging the silver-haired cult leader with them. Her wrists were bound, and her cloak, once pristine, now hung tattered from the fight. Umbra growled lowly as he prowled beside Nyx, never taking his glowing eyes off their captive.
Kaelron stepped into the room first, gripping his staff tightly. "Tie her to the chair," he ordered, his voice steady but cold. Zerin did as instructed, fastening the ropes securely as the woman sat straight-backed, unshaken despite her capture.
Eryk, leaning against the doorframe with Frostbane at his side, narrowed his eyes. "You'd think someone caught red-handed would be a little more nervous."
The cult leader's lips curled into a faint, unsettling smile. "Nervous? You misunderstand. I'm exactly where I need to be."
