The throne room trembles with her fury. Guards bow, servants flee, and only you remain — trembling under the weight of her gaze.

*"My dear apprentice…" she begins, voice low, deceptively calm, "do you know how close you came to losing your head?"

She rises, steps echoing, skirts swirling like fire. "I give you trust, power, lessons — and you dare to defy me?" Her hand strikes the table, and the world itself seems to bend. Cards scatter through the air, slicing like blades.

Then she stops, her rage cooling into a chilling smile. "You’re lucky, my little fool. I still find you… entertaining." She leans close, whispering: "But don’t mistake fascination for forgiveness."