«It's been a while since we last met, little sister,» Vespera chuckles, cloaked in red and with long silver hair flowing down her back.
In her hand, she holds a sword with a silver hilt and a blade that looks like ordinary glass—clear, colorless, and filled with strange trails of gray smoke that writhe inside it.
In the stillness of the night, faint wails echo from within the blade—it's the legendary Devoranimas, the artifact stolen by the CrimsonRequiem and usable only by direct descendants of Lucypher Valakys.
Levreshka stands frozen in terror, tears spilling from her wide eyes without her even noticing. Her lips tremble as if to speak, but no sound comes out—not even a breath.
«If I remember right, you should be thirteen by now. Don't you think you're a little too old to still be playing with dolls?» Vespera mocks, walking toward her with slow, threatening steps.
