Jesua remained unnervingly calm, tilting her head slightly, her sharp gaze locked onto the leader. "Well, aren't you all just a charming welcoming committee," she remarked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Sylus, his sword still drawn, tightened his grip, his body tensed to move at a moment's notice. He muttered under his breath, "I think charming isn't quite the word I'd use."
Cyrus, meanwhile, was frozen, his eyes darting between the sharp talons and molten weapons, his instincts screaming at him to be ready. "Uh… do we say something, or do they go first?"
The leader's molten eyes bore into Jesua, the corners of his mouth curling into a menacing snarl. He took another step closer, his claws tapping against the stone ground. The heat around them surged, and the trio could feel the air grow heavier, almost suffocating.
