"So 'that's' why you let it get stolen…" Klaus muttered, his eyes narrowing as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place.
The Old Saintess nodded.
"Yes," she admitted.
"I knew that no matter how hard we tried, the 'bloodline would never submit' to anyone we chose."
Her voice remained steady, but there was something almost unsettling about her certainty.
"So I let it escape, believing that the one 'destined' to claim it would eventually find it."
A pause.
Then, a sigh.
And then—
Her expression shifted.
Something more personal. More bitter.
"'But'… I just didn't expect the one to steal it would be 'Little Darion'."
For the first time, there was something akin to emotion in her tone.
A softness.
But also—bitterness.
"His betrayal still hurts my little heart."
She placed a hand over her chest, her usual unreadable expression replaced by a hint of nostalgia.
Yet Klaus could tell.
That wasn't disappointment.
She was just like this.
