Arkan took another step into the cave, the dying light casting long, exaggerated shadows behind him. His gaze, sharp and assessing, moved from the bound woman, Elara, to the small, dark vial on the floor, then to the unsettling crimson stains on Luna's hands. Finally, his eyes rested on Zara, her face bruised, a cut marring her cheek, her clothes torn. He saw the tremble in her lips, the unshed tears in her eyes, but also a newfound steel in her posture.
"What happened here?" he repeated, his voice still low, but with an underlying current of suppressed tension.
Zara tried to speak, but only a choked gasp escaped. She gestured weakly at Elara. Luna, however, stood firm, her gaze unflinching. "Hartono sent her," Luna stated, her voice flat, devoid of the earlier triumphant satisfaction. "
