Alpha Brocks Mate
Esme’s gaze snapped to the witches, intense and unyielding; with a flourish of her delicate hands, a shimmering magical barrier enveloped her, an impenetrable stronghold.
In the midst of this underwater opera, I believed I had borne witness to every astonishment the depth could offer. Yet here was Esme, her priorities adrift. She heedlessly ignored the fate of her mate, her mind ensnared by a more perplexing conundrum. “Why,” she demanded of the witches, her voice laced with horror, "are the fish not in their native waters but languishing in this thick, ensnaring syrup?" The disregard for her aquatic kin, forced to float in such gooey cruelty, left her utterly aghast.
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