Morgana didn't even make footsteps. Just her presence.
Hair the color of shattered sapphire spilled in cascading waves over her shoulders.
Her pale skin practically glowed under the moonlight, too white to be natural. Her eyes—clear, crystalline, and devoid of warmth—rested calmly on Vivienne.
But her gaze burned colder than any reprimand.
"You're interfering."
Vivienne didn't answer.
Morgana stepped closer, the heels of her boots silent against the stone, like even sound knew better than to get in her way.
"You know what could happen," she said, voice quieter now. Not soft. Just… sharper. Just like a scalpel.
"I do."
"And you did it anyway."
Vivienne met her eyes. "They're trying to bring him back."
"They're children."
"They're his friends."
Morgana's expression didn't change, but the air did—heavier now. Time didn't slow, but it strained.
Vivienne felt the subtle drag at the edges of her thoughts.
