Shame
Mitchelle stood amidst the quiet expanse of the Null Estate's ethereal gardens, her expression calm yet her mind a tempest of unrelenting fury.
Despite her composed exterior, her thoughts lingered on the insolence Alala, the vampire matron, had dared display her killing intent toward her son.
Anthony had emerged victorious in the bloodbath, his triumph untainted by sacrifice or compromise.
Yet Alala, blinded by grief and hubris, had dared release her killing intent against him, flouting all notions of restraint and honor.
Mitchelle closed her eyes, taking a measured breath.
Her innate affinity for magic rippled through the air as she invoked a subtle spell of clairvoyance.
The magic wrapped around her like an unseen mist, tethering itself to the faint remnants of Alala's aura from the bloodbath.
The threads of power wove through the ether, pulling Mitchelle's awareness toward a distant stronghold veiled in shadow.