Eleanor's grip on his arm tightened. "It will work. I've studied the ancient texts, I've prepared every aspect of this ritual. There is no room for failure."
The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed, sensing the edge in her voice. "Are you certain this is about the future of our kind, Eleanor? Or is this about you? About your desire for power?"
Eleanor stiffened, though she quickly composed herself. "Of course this is about our kind. You and I have always shared the same goal."
"Have we?" he asked, his voice low. "Or has your ambition clouded your judgment?"
Eleanor's face remained calm, but inside, a flicker of fear took hold. The bond between her and the Dark Lord had always been strong, built on mutual respect and a shared vision for the future. But now, as the ritual drew closer, she could feel that bond beginning to fracture. His doubts threatened everything they had worked for, and if she didn't find a way to quell them, everything would be lost.