Her feet moved like whispers across the ground, silent and deliberate.
Her every motion was a study in patience and precision. She moved inch by inch, careful not to disturb even a speck of dust.
Her fingers grazed the floor lightly as she crawled forward, her gaze locked on her target.
Her muscles were tense, coiled like springs, ready to explode into action the moment the opportunity presented itself.
The world around her seemed to fade away; there was no sound, no distraction—only her and her prey.
Illix's chain snapped through the air with a sharp, metallic hiss, each link gleaming as it raced toward its target.
But Trois had anticipated the move, her body already shifting before the attack had fully begun.
She was there, just beyond its reach, her movements quick and calculated like a predator weaving through danger.
