We stood outside the cave, surrounded by soldiers, their weapons trained on me like a pack of wolves waiting for their prey to make a mistake. The tension in the air was suffocating, thick enough to cut with a blade.
Zes stood before me, gripping a long knife with the ease of a veteran. Her stance was impeccable, sharp and refined—the stance of a true killer. Not a single opening. Her muscles tensed, ready to explode into movement at any second. Her eyes locked onto me, filled with the cold, calculating focus of someone who had danced with death more times than she could count.
In contrast, I held Ayuru at my side, her familiar weight grounding me. She pulsed in my grip, drinking in my mana, a silent exchange between weapon and wielder.
