The private chamber adjacent to the throne room shimmered with light from dozens of floating glyphs. They spun slowly overhead, humming like a beehive spun from mana and old promises.
Leonhardt stood at the centre, arms crossed, coat shrugged over one shoulder.
The two women stood across from him, Zafira crossing her arms under her breasts with wings twitching slightly, from her excitement and Erina, still stiff and hesitant and wearing her travel clothes, a little out of place.
A small pedestal stood in the centre of the room, with two items floating over the surface.
A sleek black mask shaped like a wolf's snarl, etched with faint red runes and a silver one, painted gold along the edges, smiling like a silent fox.
He tapped the side of the pedestal lightly.
"Choose," he said.
Zafira didn't hesitate.
Her hand slid out first, snatching the wolf mask between two delicate fingers. She tilted it toward the light, inspecting the sharp teeth and narrow slits for eyes.
