The next day broke with clear skies and a soft veil of morning mist clinging to the treetops. Quinlan stood with his body still carrying the soreness from yesterday's brutal spar. Beside him, Serika stretched her arms behind her back, her usual crop top-style armor replaced by something just a touch more formal—still sleeveless, of course.
They weren't alone.
Serika's squad of elite scouts flanked them like shadows—silent, sharp-eyed, and ready. Each wore forest-toned cloaks that allowed them to melt into the scenery. As the group moved, the mist around them seemed to peel away, parting before their path as if nature itself had been taught not to stand in their way.
Feng skipped forward with her usual effortless grace, freshly bathed, dressed in soft blues and greens, her dark hair tied into a high, bouncing tail. "I can't believe we're really going to the capital!" she cheered, smiling.
