"I'm not asking you to get emotional. I'm asking you to acknowledge that this is *terrible* and you're allowed to—" The mouse stopped itself. "Right. You don't feel things that way. I keep forgetting."
"Most people do."
They were quiet for a moment. Dust motes drifted through the shattered windows. Outside, Elara could hear the distant sounds of servants cleaning up the debris her magic had blown into the corridor.
"The goddess," Elara said slowly. "When I was in the white void. She showed me hell. Told me every action has consequences. Every harm caused must be balanced."
"Yes?"
"This poison was deliberately crafted. Specifically designed to target someone like me—high magical capacity, inexperienced with physical intimacy, politically vulnerable." Elara's voice stayed flat but her eyes were cold. "Someone researched my weaknesses. Commissioned this weapon. Deployed it with precision."
"Probably," the System agreed.
