[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: The Great Forest]
Grimm and the lion held each other in their gaze for a few seconds—just a few—yet the dead forest seemed to grow tense around them as though even the air knew what was about to occur.
The lion's paws shifted in the cratered earth. The muscles in its shoulders bunched, thick and dense beneath its mane, and its tail flicked once. Grimm did not move. His sword remained pointed downward, tip hovering just above the frost-scarred ground. His posture was almost lazy, insulting, as if he were waiting for something other than a threat.
Puck drifted several paces behind and above him, watching with her chin propped on her armored knuckles. Her gaze bore down in interest.
Then just as suddenly, the lion's body changed. It wasn't mana. There was no kind of shimmer, no visible flow, and no scent of any kind of spellwork in the air.
