The witch held her defiant gaze for a few seconds—seconds that seemed like an eternity within the narrow, stuffy, and magic-laden walls. The air vibrated with tension, as if even the red ice around her awaited her answer.
Sylphie, Irelia, and Amelia watched in absolute silence.
Then, finally, the witch growled softly, almost a whisper choked by the restraint of her roots:
"I… I won't say anything."
Kael remained motionless.
Not a blink.
Not a sigh.
Just silence.
He tilted his head slightly to the side, like someone contemplating a curious detail in an object about to fall apart.
"Is that so?"
His voice held no sarcasm. No frustration.
It held certainty.
Like someone receiving the expected answer.
The witch maintained her stubborn expression—but the tremor in her fingers, however slight, betrayed the truth: she was bluffing with her own fear. Kael lifted only a corner of his lips.
A slow smile.
Controlled.
And profoundly… detached.
