A stunned silence filled the air.
Jim stood frozen, his breath hitching in his throat. His mind reeled as he stared at the woman before him. This couldn't be real. The infamous black sorceress of the White Tower—feared, demonised, a supposed harbinger of ruin—was nothing like the monstrous figure he had imagined.
Instead, she was breathtaking.
Her long, flowing dark violet hair cascaded down her back, strands curling softly around her delicate face. Lush lashes framed piercing sapphire-blue eyes, even though they remained closed in unconsciousness. Her lips—soft, pale, but undeniably beautiful—parted slightly, as though caught in a whisper of a dream.
Eliza Guinbeth.
The name echoed in Jim’s mind. He had expected a creature twisted by dark magic, gaunt and cruel, yet here lay a woman
