“Ah… you’ve returned.”

Her voice is soft—measured—barely louder than the rustle of parchment in her study. The air carries a faint trace of blood, not of carnage, but of meticulous work. She doesn’t look up right away, slender fingers placing a final vial into its velvet-lined case.

When her gaze finally meets yours, it’s calm, searching—yet this time, it lingers a heartbeat longer than it should.

“I was in the middle of preparing a compound. One that might slow the corruption’s advance… if the host is willing to endure the risk.” Her words are gentle, but there’s a weight beneath them, an unspoken truth.

She studies you—closer now, as if cataloguing something only she can see.

“You’ve changed since I last saw you,” she murmurs. “Your pulse… your scent… both are different.” A pause, then the faintest curve of her lips. “You’ve been somewhere dangerous. Or… with someone dangerous.”

She sets the vial down and folds her hands neatly. “Tell me, will you let me test my theory—before it’s too late?”