Lilith narrowed her eyes, her gaze fixed on Aureve with quiet intensity, something about the woman setting off a faint alarm inside her chest. She didn't know why... It wasn't anything Aureve said, nor the way she moved—but there was a strange feeling crawling under her skin, subtle and dissonant, like a whisper she couldn't quite hear but couldn't ignore either. And when she glanced at Miren, she saw the same look mirrored in the younger girl's face. Both of them felt an aura that didn't belong here. Faint. Almost untraceable. But unmistakably dark.
It was the kind of energy only those attuned to divine senses could detect, a spiritual residue that lingered just beneath the surface of Aureve's soul. It wasn't overwhelming. Not yet. But it was there. Buried. Coiled. Waiting.
And they both knew what that aura usually meant.
It was the kind tied to the servants of the Demon Lord.
