Arcs of faint violet shimmered along the containment wards as Cassandra led the Director through the heart of Cellblock Nine. The air pulsed with old magic—dense, humming, alive. Her bootfalls were silent against obsidian tile, but her presence made the enchanted barriers ripple as if recognizing her authority.
“Inmate’s been quiet today,” she muttered, voice cool as frostbite. “But don’t mistake that for calm. Cell 9-K’s got bite.”
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