Roanna's frustrated screams echoed through the broken manor.
The children's souls had stopped attacking, but their cries lingered in thin, trembling sounds that rippled through the air as if recognizing the figure who shattered their illusion.
Half of the manor's ceiling was gone, shards of the false roof drifting like fractured glass.
Through the opening, the border between illusion and reality shimmered, revealing the true throne room beyond.
The glamour had collapsed, and what was left was raw, decaying truth.
"Who dares destroy my masterpiece?!"
Roanna's voice trembled with fury, but when she raised her hand to summon her weapon, nothing formed.
The energy she once absorbed had dispersed, slipping through her grasp like smoke.
'It's fine,' she told herself, forcing a smirk. 'I can rebuild it. I always can.'
The echo of boots cut through the silence. A figure stepped from the shadows. It was Seamus, with his father close behind.
