Black Morass depths of depravity

she listens, unmoving, as the girl speaks—firm, steady, unshaken beneath the weight of kovictus’s presence.

good.

her head tilts slightly, an almost imperceptible motion, though there is something like consideration in the way her cold eyes settle upon her.

then prove it, she murmurs, voice smooth, unyielding. nothing more, nothing less. the morass would decide.