The clearing around the shattered carriage roof was a tableau of stunned, chaotic stillness.
The Shadow Beast, an alpha predator of terrifying speed and precision, had not attacked them, but their resources. It stood atop the mangled canvas, its pale yellow eyes fixed on the remaining vials, the embodiment of cold, efficient destruction.
Vice, however, was already moving. He didn't draw a weapon, nor did he use a powerful spell. His action was singular and precise.
As the Shadow Beast prepared to swipe again, Vice didn't intercept the paw; he intercepted the creature's focus.
He moved with an unnatural speed that put Cass's Silas to shame. His silver hair flashed as he reached the shattered roof and, with a gentle, expert hand, placed a single, freshly peeled orange beside the creature.
