Azrael reacted swiftly, instinctively pulling his head back to avoid the sharp-edged shadows that seemed poised to strike at his neck. He couldn't help but notice that something was amiss – Isolde's mood, usually as calm as a placid lake, appeared turbulent today. It was as if a tempest brewed beneath her serene exterior.
He landed gracefully on the ground, executing a somersault in mid-air that would have made an acrobat envious. The tension hung in the air, almost tangible, as if waiting for the right moment to unravel the calm facade that usually enveloped Isolde.
