The sterile chill of the interrogation room did little to calm the storm brewing inside me. The overhead light flickered slightly, casting faint shadows over the room. When I stepped through the threshold, my breath caught in my throat.
Nirma.
She sat there calmly, as if she’d been expecting me all along. Her hands were shackled, the enchanted silver cuffs glinting faintly. I knew Magnus had cast multiple layers of binding spells on them—no one could break free from those unless they had a death wish. And yet, there was no fear in her. Just... peace. Familiarity.
Her gaze met mine, warm and knowing, exactly the way I remembered it from my childhood. Time seemed to have spared her entirely. Not a single wrinkle graced her skin, not a strand of silver in her deep brown hair.
"You haven’t
