"They… they are… Grim Reapers."
Aricia’s heart raced as the whispered words echoed in her mind. The thought lingered, chilling her to her very core. Her breathing slowed, the stillness of the room pressing down on her like a heavy shroud. She kept her eyes closed, pretending to remain unconscious as voices floated through the air, low and filled with tension.
***
"Is she dead?"
The question, soft and tender, cut through the silence. The voice was gentle, like the caress of moonlight on water, but laced with an unmistakable thread of concern.
"She better not be," another voice replied, this one deep and dripping with sarcasm. "I’m not great with shovels." The nonchalance in his tone was almost infuriating, a jarring contrast to the first speaker's worry.
"I think we should call Livia," came a the first voice voice—refined and deliberate. It was Lady Nyphera, no doubt about it. Her tone held a hint of hesitation, as if even suggesting the name required courage.