The three remaining guards froze for the briefest heartbeat, their eyes darting to the corpse of their fallen comrade sprawled at their feet. No words passed their lips, but their breaths came harsher, their posture taut with a sharp realization—they were not crossing blades with a common intruder, nor even an average warrior. This woman before them, wreathed in firelight and carrying herself with an almost terrifying calm, was a predator, and they were prey that had yet to understand how the hunt would end.
Their formation shifted. Gone was the reckless overconfidence, the brutish attempt to overwhelm her with sheer numbers. Now, their stance tightened, steps measuring, blades lowering like fangs prepared to strike in calculated rhythm. They would not rush her again. They would test, probe, and strike in unison with precision meant to box her in and exploit her every movement.
