Edgar Frost's Base

"Can you breathe in space though?" Ophelia asks me, her tone casual. 

"No, I can't." 

"That would be a problem," she says with a shrug. 

"But I can hold my breath for several hours—sometimes even days," I reply. 

"Well, that's good enough. I also hold my breath in space to avoid harmful cosmic energy. Once we get into Edgar Frost's ship, breathing won't be an issue," Ophelia explains, walking to her closet. She returns with a large container, placing it on the ground before pulling out an enormous piece of chalk. 

She kneels down and begins drawing intricate runes on the floor, her movements precise. Her hips sway in a mesmerizing way as she works. 

"You know… you and Zella are the only ones who could make me do this," Ophelia says, not looking up as she continues her work. Sweat glistens on her forehead as she focuses. 

"Why is that? What am I to you?" I ask suddenly, my curiosity piqued.