She came to a halt before Yan and cast her twisted staff to the ground. Around it, small fiery symbols scattered, moving as though they were alive.
"The Great Centaur sent me… to put an end to your ridiculous performance. You're merely a woman pretending to be powerful, but in truth, you're nothing more than a beautiful toy—one my hands will shatter like glass."
She laughed—a dry, lingering laugh, as though she had heard all the secrets of the world and found nothing left in it worth caring about.
Yan stood firm, still gripping her bow, her gaze fixed on the old woman without a trace of fear. She lifted her head slightly and replied in a cold, steady voice:
"You're nothing but a messenger… and messengers are burned before they ever arrive. The Centaur knows I will not bow… so did he send you to test your luck?"
The sorceress's eyes ignited with a green glow, and the air around her trembled as the whispers of unseen jinn filled the space. She raised her hands, and suddenly, dark hands erupted from her shadow—long, serpent-like, slithering toward Yan in an attempt to seize her.
But Yan drew her bowstring tight, her arrow glowing with radiant light, a mocking smile on her lips as she said:
"You know… I've been waiting for a target worthy of my skill."
The vast stone palace of the House of Ina gleamed beneath the glow of the torches mounted along its walls. The long corridors twisted like a labyrinth, and the towering arches echoed with every step. Yan, her golden hair flowing like a waterfall, gripped her bow tightly, her blue eyes blazing as she retreated with measured steps.
Behind her, the old sorceress entered through the gate like a storm of shadows. She laughed, her voice shaking the very ceiling:
"You will find no place to hide, Flower of Ina… the palace whose walls shelter you will become your grave tonight!"
With a gesture, shadows of jinn poured forth between the pillars, like black spiders crawling along the walls and ceiling, their outstretched hands reaching to seize Yan.
Yan ran swiftly, her long braids trailing behind her, her slender form moving with graceful precision. She turned at one of the corridors and raised her bow; her luminous arrow pierced one of the jinn, causing it to scream before exploding into a cloud of green smoke that dissipated into the air.
But the old woman did not falter. Instead, she shouted as she raised her staff:
"Run! Run faster! I want to see how your breath collapses before I take your heart with my own hands!"