"Do you think…" Aurelia whispered, her voice trembling like a fragile thread pulled too tight, "that the curse fed on my self-hatred? Perhaps… perhaps me hating myself for what I became—could my self-hatred have anchored it?"
Her fingers hovered over the altered curve of her cheek, not recoiling this time, but searching. Searching for truth. Searching for release.
Gwen did not answer immediately. She studied her lady's reflection carefully, as though the answer might be hidden in the faint change of shadow and light across her skin.
"I do not know," Gwen admitted at last, her honesty steady but gentle. "But I know despair changes a person. I have seen it hollow the strongest hearts. And I have seen hope rebuild them."
She swallowed, emotion thickening her voice.
"Perhaps it fed on your despair, my lady."
Aurelia's reflection blurred as tears welled and spilled freely down her cheeks.
"My despair…" she repeated faintly.
