Evelyn's lips curled into a delighted smile as power surged from her daughter.
Finally.
That annoying seal was gone.
For years, the Tower of Magic had suppressed her treasure, burying that beautiful, monstrous potential under layers of spellcraft and deception. But now—now it was free.
And yet, something was off.
Not in the way her daughter stood, trembling with newfound strength, nor in the air that cracked and twisted around her as reality itself bent under her presence.
No. It was something else.
A sigh cut through the charged silence.
A male voice.
"Nobody will be giving anybody back," the voice muttered, irritated, almost bored.
Evelyn's entire body stiffened.
Slowly, she turned.
Arthur Nightingale stood there.
Alive.
She blinked, once, then twice.
That wasn't possible.
She had watched her black rose petals slice through him, watched his body unravel at a fundamental level. He hadn't simply died—he had been undone.
