972 Weaver of Destiny

 "Pardon?"

 "I didn't ask for an apology. Formle, the truth, right this instant."

 "Where's the motherly Miira gone?" 

 "What was that?" she held cutlery, innocent utensils that resembled weapons, "-I couldn't hear over the sound of sharpening knives."

 "You win," he caved, "-Yuria was possessed by a clockwork shadow. The latter be a member of Artanos' legion. Before more questions are asked, I'm an old friend of his. We used to be partners before my whole death thing. I'd normally be secretive about the shared bond; but not now, it won't bring much good. I must ask, no digging into my past further. It's left behind, we all share secrets we rather not reveal. Isn't that right, a not-so-virtuous goddess Miira."

She flashed her azure dots upon his somber visage, "-how did you?" she hushed.