"Do you really think one snake beastman can take us all down?" the leader of the Fangridge warriors asked, still wearing a smug grin—but now, his tone had lost that lazy confidence. His eyes narrowed at Kian, clearly assessing him as a threat for the first time.
The wind shifted, carrying with it the thick scent of smoke, sweat, and something metallic—blood, perhaps? Isabella's fingers twitched at her sides. She took a half-step back, just enough to avoid blocking the view of the confrontation, but not enough to look like she was hiding. Not that it would help.
From where she stood behind a crumbling stone pillar, Isabella's gaze darted around. Five men stood in clear sight, each marked with four bold stripes across their chests—Fangridge's way of showing ranking, she recalled. They were all seasoned fighters. Thickly built, battle-hardened, and still scanning the surroundings like wolves waiting for the order to pounce.
But on their side...
