Hearing Acala calling her a cursed object hurt Dawn. The Horsemen weren't the mad creations of a foolish mage. They weren't bent on world domination or any self-serving goal.
The Horsemen were the opus of Baba Yaga, the strongest and wisest white core on Mogar. They were her chosen children, entrusted with the sacred mission of helping her perfect her job and freeing the undead race from their flaws.
'Yet I can't deny that to our victims our behavior is hardly different from that of a cursed object. Night is even worse.' Dawn thought, biting her tongue to keep herself from talking and bracing for impact.
"On the contrary, you have my thanks." Acala gave her a polite nod of the head where once he would have held her hand. "It's thanks to you that I've realized what true genius is and got rid of my blind pride.