Sepphiroth took a deep breath, his eyes as impassive as the void between the stars.
"Now yes. As it should be."
His voice was low but sharp—a sentence that echoed in the air with absolute authority.
She walked with steady steps among the fallen bodies, her cloak brushing the black floor, and the palace gates still open by the force of fear. But before she completely crossed the threshold, a shadow descended gently in front of her.
The presence was not hostile—on the contrary, it overflowed with reverence.
A woman knelt with rehearsed perfection. Her white hair was tied in long, meticulously made braids, and her dark uniform with silver details was immaculate. She kept her eyes down, but her posture said it all: she knew exactly who she was standing before.
"I'm sorry for the... inconvenience," said the woman, her voice calm but laden with restrained tension. 'There is no excuse for such insolence on Gremory soil.'
Sepphirothy paused.
