Delia stepped closer, her movements slow and calm, as if she were walking through a garden instead of a prison room filled with the scent of death.
She squatted in front of the helpless Olivia.
The black threads tied to Olivia's wrists began to glow with a dark red light.
Every time the threads pulsed, Olivia felt something cold being pulled out of her chest her soul was being drained little by little.
Olivia gasped for air, her vision blurring.
Memories of her parents' faces, school memories, everything turned gray and faded away one by one. She tried to remember her original purpose, to save Javien, but even his name felt distant, like a memory from a book that had already burned to ash.
Delia watched on. Her expression was neutral, showing no emotion, as if she were looking at a dying insect. However, behind those eyes lay a deep, ancient hatred, as if they had been enemies for centuries.
