32.

As the eerie silence thickened around Angelina, she braced herself, her senses heightened. Every muscle in her body was tense, as if bracing for an attack from the shadows, for she knew the succubus was still lurking nearby. The cold, damp air of the basement pressed down on her, laced with the scent of old stone and something more sinister—a faint, almost metallic bitterness that left her unsettled.

“Where are you hiding?” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes scanning every inch of the darkness around her.

Suddenly, a swirl of black smoke materialized in front of her, twisting and condensing into the form of the succubus. The woman’s dark, ethereal beauty was sharp and unnatural, her eyes like two endless pits of blackness, cold and unfeeling. Angelina took a cautious step back, feeling the power emanating from this creature, realizing how truly dangerous she was.