The High Priestess's soft chuckle held no malice, only a weary understanding. "I grasp the sentiment, young Queen, Your sarcasm is not lost on me. Your path has certainly not been one paved with roses."
"No, it decidedly has not," Aurelia retorted, her gaze locking onto Seraphielle's, fierce and unwavering.
"And now, it appears my suffering is to be concluded, by your hand no less, simply because I might, in some distant, 'demented vision' of yours, lay waste to the entire world." Her words were laced with bitter sarcasm, a desperate attempt to wound back.
Seraphielle's expression remained unreadable. "Perhaps."
"How comforting."
They continued toward the manor. The enormous doors stood open. Neither woman had touched them.
Aurelia noticed that the moment Seraphielle stepped onto the stone threshold, the doors slowly creaked wider on their own.
She glanced at the High Priestess. "Does this place normally open its doors for visitors?"
