Those Violet eyes, once swirling with a bewitching, illusory light capable of making the weak-willed sink into depravity in an instant, were now unfocused.
Reflected in their depths was not Roland's figure, but what seemed to be an endless, hollow Darkness.
The whites of her eyes were covered in a fine, web-like network of blood vessels—not from anger, but from prolonged, extreme mental strain and exhaustion.
Her gaze would tremble violently one moment, then sink into a deathly, vacant stupor the next, as if she could slide into the chaotic Abyss of consciousness at any second.
More unsettling were the subtle expressions on her face.
They were not deliberate attempts at Charm or pity, but uncontrollable spasms and twitches originating from the very instinct of her soul.
The slight furrow of her brow was not born of calculation, but of pain.
The subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth had nothing to do with allure; it was pure Fear.
