"You certainly aren't very hospitable." Ith stepped across the tabletop, walking right up to Voldemort and Riddle seated at the head of the table, and bent down to look them in the eye. "Holding a meeting and not even inviting someone as important as a partner like me." He paused, his youthful gaze briefly sweeping over the black ring on Riddle's fingertip. "How heartbreaking."
Ith walked unconcernedly across the table, every step accompanied by a slight groan from the wood. His pace was light, seemingly treading upon an invisible melody as his robes drifted gently in the wind. His target was clear: Voldemort and the young Tom Riddle seated at the head of the table.
Ith stopped in front of the two of them, leaning his upper body slightly forward and peering down in a near-provocative posture. His deep eyes seemed capable of piercing through to the deepest secrets of the human heart. "You really aren't very hospitable," he said, his voice low and magnetic, carrying a trace of imperceptible sarcasm, "holding such an important meeting without inviting an essential partner like me."
Chapter 212