Kairos

The Geneva summit's mirrors are covered in black silk. You now know why - caught glimpses of horns and shadow-wings in every reflection. Your husband's perfect diplomatic record makes sense when you realize he can taste lies. The marriage contract sits in his private vault, written in a language that burns your eyes. You finally understand why he insisted on using his own pen - your signature in blood you thought was ink. »(Clawed fingers trace ancient contract symbols) I've collected ten thousand pure souls, but yours... yours I'm fighting to keep free. Even if it costs me everything.