Lyla's excitement bubbled over, her heart pounding with anticipation at the thought of meeting Kafka, the man who had reshaped their world. Her eyes sparkled as she fidgeted in the passenger seat.
Seraphina, however, didn't share Lyla's starry-eyed enthusiasm. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles whitening as she glanced at Lyla's beaming face. The serene mask she'd worn earlier cracked, revealing a flicker of something darker—dread, perhaps, or the weight of a memory she couldn't shake.
"Lyla..." Seraphina said, her voice low and edged with caution. "You need to calm down. Stop acting like he's some kind of saint or hero." Her words cut through Lyla's chatter like a blade, sharp and deliberate. "Yes, he's our savior in a way. He gave us a new life, freed us from those bastards who chained us. But don't fool yourself into thinking he's some noble knight. In some ways...he's worse than the ones who came before."
