Page 88 of Crowned In Venom

A flower that only blooms under the moons of my people, its nectar hidden in wine, in perfume, in the very air she breathes.

But she still lives.

She should be weaker by now. Wilting, trembling.

And yet—she is growing stronger.

Something is wrong.

Something has changed.

I need to move faster.

Before she realizes what I have been doing.

Before she finds another way to undo me.

The underground chamber is empty when I arrive.

At least, it appears to be.

I do not wait.

I do not call out.

I simply pour the thick, darkened liquid into the goblet and place it on the stone table at the center of the room.

Then, I lean back, waiting.

The torches flicker.

And just like that, they are no longer alone.

A presence shifts the air.

Silent.

A shadow where there was none before.

The Ghost.

I do not turn as the figure materializes from the darkness, a ripple in the fabric of reality itself.

They move without sound, without breath, until they stand beside me.

Watching.

Waiting.

"You’ve been quiet lately," I murmur.

The Ghost does not answer.

They never do.

But I know they are listening.

I pick up the goblet, swirling the liquid inside.

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