Then Baba Yaga said, her voice low and cackling like dry leaves scraping against stone,
"Kiyoshi Rin…" She laughed a bit, the sound rich and amused, echoing off the high, shadowed ceiling of the ancient chamber like breaking glass.
Her long brown hair cascaded like liquid chocolate down her back as she leaned forward, her fair skin glowing in the flickering torchlight, her amber eyes sparkling with dark humor.
The witch's slender form seemed to coil with delight, her dark robes whispering as she shifted in her chair, fingers drumming lightly on the scarred black marble table.
The room itself amplified her laughter — the tall pillars groaned faintly, the faded tapestries on the walls seemed to stir as if the depicted fallen gods were listening, and the obsidian floor reflected her amusement like a dark mirror.
The other monsters watched in silence, the air thick with sulfur and old blood, the torch flames dancing in iron braziers as Baba Yaga continued her tale with relish.
