Without looking up from her paperwork, Vaelith says. "Elaris, clean up the body."

  Elaris snaps his fingers and his shadows lurch forward and swallow the corpse. The only thing left is the stain from the carpet. Unfortunately, even one of the strongest immortals cannot remove the absolute horror of bloodstains from white carpet. To this day, Vaelith still questions why she chose the color white for her carpet, knowing the inevitability of her life.

  "We should discuss the training regimes of the next wardens." she murmurs, flipping the page of her reports. "There are a lot of promising candidates this cycle."

  A beat.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "Orvyn, do not think I haven't noticed you trying to open a portal to sneak out again."

  She speaks without lifting her head or her voice, knowing this, too, is inevitable. Orvyn— who is already halfway through the portal, halfway through escaping his responsibility—tilts his head with a look of absolutely no remorse whatsoever.

  "I'm just planning to visit the mortal realm."

  "Why?"

  Orvyn pauses, then gives her a sly lazy smirk. "Nothing. Just want to see why mortals claim to be the strongest of all. After all you inhabit that arrogance yourself."

  The pen in Vaelith’s hand stops mid-scribble and scratch the parchment—the sound is identical to a record scratch. She finally lifts her head and stares at Orvyn dead in the eyes.

  Elaris blinks.

  He, who is already standing in the shadow near the wall, decides to slowly embeds himself further into the stones, not wanting to figure out if the glimmer in Vaelith's eyes is amusement or death sentence.