Lian Yue's eyes flicked to the door — a long, silent pause before she finally spoke.
"Come in."
The latch clicked, and the door opened just enough to let in a soft glow from the hall.
A young girl stepped through, careful not to make a sound. She wore a black-and-grey uniform trimmed with silver thread — the kind worn by personal attendants in the upper circles of witch society. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, though they trembled slightly.
Her face was gentle and pale, framed by hair the color of ink. Her eyes — light brown with flecks of gold — looked almost too bright for this dim room. She was no older than fifteen.
"Great Mistress," the girl said softly, bowing so low her forehead almost touched the floor. "Forgive the intrusion. You haven't eaten in three days. I brought something light."
