Max's heart had only just begun to stir with hope when, without warning, a wave of heavy drowsiness swept over him. His eyes blurred, and his knees weakened.
'What's going on?' he thought, panic rising. He tried to resist it—biting his lip, digging his nails into his palms, clenching his jaw—but nothing worked. The overwhelming force of sleep was like a tide dragging him under.
And then, just as his body collapsed, a bed floated silently beneath him, catching his fall as if it had been waiting.
Lucien, still standing nearby with a sharp glint in his eyes, broke the silence. "How did your mark appear on his body?" he asked, his tone curious. "I'm certain Max had never met you before today—so how did the Mark of the Witch Queen appear on his chest?"
The woman seated elegantly at the center of the strange domain smiled faintly, resting one arm over the edge of her chair.
