Chapter 147

• Chapter 147: The Price of Power
• Isabella stands her ground, eyes narrowed to glittering slits, jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle pulses visibly beneath her pale skin. The dim, enchanted torchlight plays treacherous shadows across her face, deepening the feral fire behind her storm-gray gaze. She stares at the witch in front of her with calculated defiance carved into every inch of her posture—shoulders squared, spine rigid, chin lifted—as if daring the older woman to make even the slightest move against her.
• The witch's long silver hair shimmers faintly in the shifting magical air of the coven's ancient hallway, each strand seemingly alive with its own inner luminescence. Her eyes glow a brilliant, unwavering emerald green that pierces through the shadows like twin beacons of warning. The polished obsidian floor beneath them reflects their standoff in distorted, wavering forms, as if the very ground fears what might happen next.