"Hey—wait! Stop… what are you doing?" William's voice cracked as he stumbled a step backward. His heel caught on the leg of a chair, and he nearly lost his balance.
Milagros kept advancing — slow, deliberate, silent, like a predator closing in on trapped prey. Her movements had an odd grace to them, fluid and dreamlike. The smile playing on her lips wasn't cruel, but it wasn't kind either. Something wild flickered behind her eyes — untamed, ancient.
The air grew thick, saturated with her scent — cool and sharp, like frost over crushed herbs. His pulse hammered in his chest; his thoughts tangled. Her skin glimmered faintly, damp with a fine sheen of sweat, as though lit from within. The faint glow drew his eyes despite himself.
"Milagros…" he breathed. "You're acting strange. What's going on with you?"
