On another planet, Irys and Zalya were seated in a tavern.
Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and dim, flickering lanterns hung from the walls, casting a warm glow throughout the room.
The air was filled with the soft chatter and the occasional clink of glasses.
Both Irys and Zalya were dressed with hoods drawn over their heads.
Zalya, in a moment of frustration, chomped down on her drink, the liquid sloshing slightly over the rim of her mug.
She set the mug down with a thud. "Just where did that stupid Alric go?"
"We've already spent a lot of time here, and we still can't find him."
Irys was about to respond when she suddenly clutched at her amulet. Her eyes shifted, turning a deep, intense red, and an overwhelming aura of killing intent radiated from her.
The other customer froze mid-action, their conversations abruptly stopped. The atmosphere became oppressively heavy, filled with an unspoken fear.
