Azareel stepped back slightly, his bare feet cold on the polished surface, his torn white tunic fluttering in the stale air, an unspoken urge to shield the women rising in his chest, though their monstrous strength dwarfed his own.
Then—
A pair of eyes bloomed into view, twin stars igniting in the darkness, glowing with a milky blue light that shimmered with unnatural calm—not hostile, not kind, but empty, a gaze that pierced the void like a judgment from a forgotten god.
The women tensed, Nyxsha's claws flexing with a metallic shink, Virelya's coils tightening, her blades glinting, Sylvara's vines creeping forward, their tips trembling as they brushed against something unseen.
"Don't," Virelya hissed, her voice a sharp whisper, her golden eyes locked on the glowing orbs. "Wait."
But Sylvara didn't stop, her face pale but resolute, her jaw tight, her amber eyes blazing with a mix of fear and determination.
