Max looked around, confused and weightless, trying to make sense of the surreal place, when his gaze was drawn to the center of it all.
There, sitting atop a large velvet armchair that floated like a throne among the clutter, was a woman dressed entirely in black—long coat, black boots, and a tilted black hat that cast a mysterious shadow over her face.
Her bright green hair glowed unnaturally in the pinkish light, flowing down her shoulders with a soft, otherworldly shimmer. Her posture was poised and relaxed, but there was a cold, commanding presence about her that made Max instinctively wary.
She turned her head slowly in his direction, her eyes narrowing with interest, and a ripple—like the surface of disturbed water—flashed across them. "Is that the kid, Lucien?" she asked, her voice low and melodic.
"Yeah," Lucien answered, appearing beside Max with a casual tone. "He's the one with the soul problem."
