The crystal screen flickered once, then steadied.
Erina's image returned, clutching his chest, trembling, her face half-buried in his shoulder. She looked small in that moment. Unmade. Beautiful in her ruin.
Leonhardt sipped from his glass, the wine deep red, nearly black in the dim light of the citadel chamber.
"She ran to you," Zafira murmured, stretched across the lounge couch beside him, legs crossed, golden eyes half-lidded. "Didn't even hesitate."
"Of course she didn't." Leonhardt tilted the glass, watching the liquid swirl. "The Church brought the knife. I just took it away."
The pair were watching the current situation from the throne room created in the goblin citadel, massive mana stone screens that showed moments of the past and the current situation in Arlet, the temple and places where Griv set them up in Astrea.
It was a miracle he hacked the existing mana stone lights to grant more visuals on the city, which was now in chaos.
