Chapter 22 Al’Morthal: The Blood Pact
"I see Raven has grown up. You did well." A lady walked out of the midst of the crowd, a proud full smirk tugged on her lips.
Her black pants and jacket hugged her body, accentuating her curves. Her long, dark wavy hair bounced over her shoulders as her boots made a sharp click-clack with every step on the stone floor.
Raven couldn’t move. Her knees felt weak. She unconsciously took a step back, her throat tightening, her fingers trembling before they curled into fists.
Every step the woman took closer echoed with ominous weight, as if death followed behind her in silence.
Raven lowered her eyes. Her heart pounded, beating against her chest like a trapped bird. The air around her felt heavier with each breath, thick with fear and power she couldn’t match.
A pair of boots stopped in front of her.
"Welcome to the Sisterhood," the woman said, her voice smooth and sharp, like velvet lined with blades. "You’ve finally come of age."
Raven lifted her eyes slowly.
Phoebe.
The name alone was enough to strike fear into grown men. Raven had heard of her, she heard whispers of the blood she had spilled, of the shadows that crawled in her wake. Yet seeing her up close was different. Her presence devoured the room.
Phoebe flashed her a lopsided smile, one corner of her lips tugging upward with amusement. "You look like you’re about to pass out. Breathe, little Raven. You’re one of us now. You should be proud."