Strax returned to the beach with heavy steps, the sea wind still whipping his half-open black wings. His hybrid body bore the marks of the fight: broken scales, deep scratches on his shoulders, and splatters of dried blood on his hands. Zani remained sheathed, silent as if she, too, reflected defeat.
He advanced across the wet sand, the waves crashing against his feet, until he reached the spot where Beatrice and Bellatrix were waiting.
Beatrice, her long black hair tied in a thick braid, looked up from the sand slipping through her fingers. Bellatrix, fair-skinned and cold-faced, sat on a log, sharpening a short dagger, her feline gaze fixed on Strax.
He stopped before them, taking a deep breath before speaking:
"It's impossible."
The two exchanged a quick glance.
"Impossible?" Beatrice arched her eyebrow, her voice calm but with a curious weight.
