Baptism of Shadows

Liria stood quietly in the cavernous chamber, the stone walls lit faintly by flickering violet torches, their eerie flames casting dancing shadows. Before her, on a throne carved from solid obsidian, lounged the Dark Sovereign, golden eyes glowing faintly as they studied her carefully.

"You've grown stronger, Liria," the Sovereign remarked lazily, her voice smooth like molten silver. "Strong enough to stand at my side. Strong enough to finally make yourself useful."

Liria met her mother's gaze evenly, expression unreadable. She had grown used to these conversations cold, calculating, never quite maternal but still, some part of her bristled at the suggestion that until now, she had merely been a tool, waiting to be sharpened. Still, she kept her face carefully blank, a mask she'd perfected over three long years.

"I live to serve," she replied dryly.