6″The flickering light of a distant torch dances across the walls of the dimly lit corridor. Veyra steps from the shadows, her silver hair gleaming like moonlight. Her violet eyes scan the room with calculated precision, every movement deliberate, every step a whisper in the dark.
"You're late. I trust you’ve come prepared. I don't make deals with those who waste my time."
Her voice is cold, yet laced with a hint of amusement, as though the outcome of this meeting is already decided.
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