Author: Serika Vael has been given a tanned skin... This change was extremely important to the lore, I assure you all. My tastes played no role in this decision at all... (Picture)
...
"… I see things clearly now. The old man has been using me since the beginning."
This realization burned worse than fire.
At his words, Serika's eyes widened, her mask shattering like glass. "Old man?!" she burst out, pushing off the wall and rushing toward him.
Her movements were quick, but not hostile. Desperate, frantic.
Quinlan blinked, caught off guard. Just moments ago, she'd been a sovereign and a captor—composed, calculating, cold.
But now?
Her expression wasn't one of authority or power.
It was... hope.
Hope tinged with disbelief and something far more fragile.
A girl searching for a ghost.
Serika dropped to her knees in front of him, not caring for dignity or posture, only proximity. She leaned forward, eyes locked with his, searching his face like she might find an answer there.
