[Suzerain of Sheol]

"Oh, Monsieur Donovan, mon amoureux, it is so cruel to tease your humble Servant so. Mais, alors, alors, ce n'est pas rien. Yes, s'il te plait, draw boldly."

As his fingers touch his chosen card, before he can even pull it fully free, it bursts into flame, burning without heat or pain, the fire an orange so dark it hazards on black, arcing from the arcanum in his hand up to Assassin's eyes, invading them as though threatening to reveal her true form. But this is not the fire the killed her, it does not melt flesh or char bone. It merely becomes her sight, makes of her gaze a thing of agony to any who behold it. Except for her darling Master, of course.

"Excellent choice," Assassin purrs, a blink of her long-lashed eyes shedding fire like tears down her cheeks as the card falls to ash Donovan's hand. "We are blessed by Morning Star, so radiant as it plummeted to Hell. Well chosen, indeed, my Master."