The spears dug closer into Caelen's neck, their steel tips cold and trembling. The weight of tension crackled through the air like lightning about to strike. Reina and Veralia stood behind him, hands raised, cautious but unflinching. Ryan's fingers twitched near the hilt of his dagger, his body ready to move if Caelen even blinked the wrong way.
The guards surrounded them like wolves around prey, their boots scraping against the cobblestone, eyes trained and nervous. One guard stepped forward, his voice sharp, commanding.
"Who are you? State your business."
Caelen slowly looked up, his crimson eyes calm. His voice was soft, almost bored.
"We mean no harm."
The guard didn't lower his weapon. "I said speak."
Caelen tilted his head slightly, glancing around the estate. The air here was different — tighter, colder. The guard's armor wasn't ornamental. Their blades had tasted blood.
