Lyon, Simak, Aleysius, and Enya's gazes sharpened as a sudden, intense pressure swept over the training ground. The four clan leaders, who had just relaxed after the sparring display, instantly went on high alert, their senses sharpened, weapons ready.
"Are we being attacked?" Alistair demanded, gripping his sword tightly as his eyes darted around, scanning for threats.
Enya smirked, as calm as the eye of a storm. "Looks like it's time," she said, nodding toward the distance. "Follow me."
As they moved, Aleysius leaned toward Simak with a raised brow, whispering, "Simak, why don't you go and tuck her in at night?"
Simak's face darkened in both embarrassment and frustration. "Father... you think I don't want to?!"
Aleysius blinked, holding back a chuckle. "Son, your brows are on fire."
"Hm?" Simak's eyes widened as he reached up. "Oh, hell!" He and his father scrambled, hurriedly putting out the smoldering flames.
