The door creaked open. Mortana peered around, her wyrdling horns scraping the wood. She held a red curse in her hand, a cruel orb of light waiting to be released. 'What are you doing here?' she asked. Her gaze went to the others, and her eyes narrowed. 'Who are they?' 'Usther, Persephone, and...Smythe.' She said the last name with reticence, knowing the reaction it would get. But instead of fear or anger, Mortana's brows lifted. 'Smythe Townslayer? Come in, come in.' She pulled the door open wider.

— The Beautiful Decay by Veo Corva (Page 219)