“Nor is it meant to be, I am afraid.” There’s very little reaction to his sudden appearance. Her head turns a little, giving him a short glance before her gaze turns back to the cards. “This kind of magic rarely concerns itself with being pleasant. What brings you here?”
“The kind you pave for yourself, of course,” comes the reply, with that knowing expression remaining on Xanadu’s face as she gestures Sabrina to sit on the empty spot across her. “Destiny is not so fixed a thing as one might think, after all, thus that is hardly the right —
Oh, she’d encountered such skepticism so many times before. The young witch would hardly be the first to question her craft; nor the last.
“Perhaps.” A faint, knowing smile curves on her lips. “Such a modest term for an art far more intricate, isn’t it?”
(A pause — she shifts her weight from one foot to another; considering.)
I do hope you will be wise enough to not play games, Merlyn.
There is very little that will stop me from extracting that information out of you by force, if you dare to.
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You can’t fall from grace if you’re the heir to Hell.
(She’s unimpressed— glaring, and remaining in her passive position for now.)
But speak. I might be interested.
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