Dead Ends

Deep beneath her chamber, in the depths of her private underground lab, Mystica stood before a sleek metallic examination platform, her gaze locked onto the unsettling form of Duchess Aveline's corpse.

For the past week, she had thrown herself into rigorous arcane analysis, alchemical tests, and mystic dissections, searching for the elusive key behind the demonic transformation. Yet, time and time again, she met the same frustrating conclusion—nothing. No leads, no revelations, no grand epiphany.

She leaned forward, arms crossed, eyes narrowing at the body as if sheer willpower alone could force the truth to reveal itself. But the answers refused to come.

Unlike her usual elegant, dark gowns, she now wore a practical white coat over a sleeveless top, exposing her shoulders. Her long, flowing black hair was twisted into a messy bun, and a pair of transparent glasses perched on her nose—because, apparently, even Primordials needed to see things up close.