Luna felt the aura hit her like cool water—Rank-7, sharp and controlled. She kept her staff raised.
"So you're the last thing between her and me."
Gustav's smile was small, almost fond. "You could say that, Sorceress."
He gestured once. The heavy doors at either end of the gallery slammed shut in unison. Torches dimmed; flames shifted to deep crimson. The portraits shimmered—the painted eyes glowing softly, as though waking up.
"Relax," Gustav said, raising one open hand. "If I wanted you dead already, this hall would be considerably louder."
Luna felt it then—a subtle pressure at the edges of her mind, warm and coaxing, inviting her to lower the staff, to listen, to trust. She clenched her jaw and pushed mana inward, rooting herself against the pull.
Gustav blinked, genuinely surprised. "Resistance to charm already? Unexpected."
