Izzy watched Cerasus with a cautious eye as he collected a chair, giving no indication she intended to follow. She simply stood there, her face a mix between anger, fear, and resentment. Killing people to survive was a “small price?”
	[i]Of course it would be,[/i] she thought bitterly, [i]to someone--some[u]thing[/u] like him.[/i]
	“Powerful, huh?” she said with feigned interest. “What, can I turn into a bat?” she scoffed.
	She got stuck on another word he had used. Did he really just call her his “servant?” Her stomach churned uneasily.
	Regardless, she nodded stiffly at his explanation. It made sense, and that he was actually far older than he looked came as no surprise. That was one of the commonalities between [i]all[/i] the lore she had ever heard or read.
	Then, there was that word again, [i]servant.[/i] It made her blood boil.
	Her fists clenched at his last statement. “I am [i]not[/i] your servant,” she growled, her gaze hardening. “And you, you arrogant wretch, are certainly [i]not[/i] my master.”