Valcair's eyes rested on the pink-haired branded, still kneeling before him.
"She walked away?"
The pink-haired woman nodded.
"Yes, Master. She didn't run. She didn't fight."
"She just... saw us, saw the marks... and turned her back."
She couldn't say that they run, right?
Valcair's brow twitched.
"Did you tell her?"
"About us wanting to follow her? Serve her?"
"We did, Master," the slave said, keeping her head low.
"We said we wanted to be under her command. That we admired her."
"We even told her she could punish us—if that would please her."
"And?"
The woman swallowed.
"The moment she saw the mark on my neck… she became furious."
"Silent. And then... she walked away."
Valcair's breath caught.
He stepped closer, eyes narrowing.
"What do you mean she became furious?"
"She... changed," the pink-haired slave whispered.
"Her eyes burned."
"She said nothing, but we could feel it."
"She knew what it was."
Valcair froze.
"…She knew the tattoo?"
