Lorelei

The air in the opulent room didn’t just grow cold; it crystallized, sharp enough to cut my lungs with every breath. Esmeralda’s face, a mask of perfect beauty moments before, contorted into something ugly and primal.

She took a step, then another, her movement not a walk but a stalk, eating up the distance between us with terrifying speed.

“You,” she seethed, her voice a low, trembling wire of pure hatred. “How dare you? How dare you stand before me, wearing what was meant ...