Helena overheard and laughed. "Don't sell yourself short, darling. You've got plenty of chaos left in you."
Amara rolled her eyes. "Oh, fantastic. Let's all applaud my potential to wreak havoc. Shall I send out invites for my next disaster?"
Helena tapped her chin theatrically. "Actually, yes. A formal gala. Dress code: carnage. I'll handle the catering."
Elara squeezed Amara's hand. "I'll help with the guest list. Only people who can survive your 'charm,' obviously."
Amara smirked. "Well, that narrows it down to just you."
Felix, who had been quietly trailing behind, decided now was the perfect time to pipe up. "Excuse me, but if there's a 'chaos gala,' I'm going to need at least three weeks to prepare a suitable speech about how I always knew Amara would end the world."
Marisol, looking unimpressed, snapped her gum. "Please, Felix. Save it for her retirement party. Assuming she survives long enough to have one."