The Golden Sanctuary felt quieter than ever. Not the peaceful kind of silence—but the heavy, waiting kind that pressed against their ears. Every corner seemed to whisper secrets. Every flicker of light felt like a shadow in disguise.
No one spoke at first. They were all listening.
Finally, Anaya broke the silence. "They'll return. And when they do, it won't be to test anymore. This pause means calculation." Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor, tracing invisible lines of energy that only she could see.
Meera adjusted her bowstring, her hands steady though her voice carried an edge. "So they've gathered their notes, measured our pace, studied our reaction time… What next? A full strike?"
"Not immediately," Saira answered softly. Her calm tone was a shield against the growing tension. "They are not reckless. They'll wait until we doubt ourselves. Shadows always thrive in hesitation."
Kavya chuckled under her breath, spinning her dagger between her fingers. "Then let's give them nothing but confidence. They think they're clever? We'll stay one step ahead. Stylish misdirection against stylish misdirection."
Liyana shifted on her perch, watching the corridors with hawk-like focus. "We need more than confidence. We need traps. The kind they won't see until it's too late."
All eyes turned to Mukul. His golden threads still glowed faintly, weaving through the walls, linking each companion in invisible bonds. He spoke with quiet certainty.
"They study us. Fine. But we'll study them, too. Every probe taught us something—speed, timing, intent. They want information. Let's feed them what we choose."
Anaya lifted her head. "False weaknesses?"
"Exactly," Mukul replied. "We lure them into believing we're slower, or divided, or distracted. They'll build their strategy on lies—and when the real fight comes, they'll crumble."
Meera's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I can delay my shots by a fraction of a second. Enough to make them think I struggle with precision."
Kavya grinned. "I can exaggerate my movements—make it look like I waste energy with flashy spins. Stylish, but fake."
Anaya nodded. "I'll mask my sensing radius. They'll assume blind spots where none exist."
Saira's voice remained steady, grounding them all. "I can shift healing patterns. Let them think recovery takes longer. It may embolden them to strike harder, leaving themselves exposed."
Liyana tilted her head, a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes. "And I'll feign hesitation. Just once. Enough to bait them into targeting me."
Mukul looked at each of them, pride in his gaze. "Good. Every false flaw will weave into a trap. And when they commit…" His golden aura brightened, threads expanding across the Sanctuary like a hidden web. "…they'll find themselves tangled."
The group fell into silence again, but this time it wasn't heavy. It was purposeful.
Meera polished her arrows with care, rehearsing the exact delay she'd employ. Kavya practised twirls that looked careless but were perfectly controlled. Anaya sat cross-legged, masking and unmasking her sensing field like breathing. Saira knelt with her palms pressed to the ground, shifting healing energy into deceptive rhythms. Liyana crouched above, rehearsing the subtle pause that would bait the shadows.
Mukul stood at the centre, every golden thread humming in harmony with his companions. He wasn't just preparing a strategy—he was binding their trust into something unbreakable.
Hours passed. The shadows didn't return. But the team could feel them watching. Waiting.
"They're out there," Liyana murmured finally. "Stylish patience. They think we'll grow restless."
Mukul's voice was calm, unwavering. "Let them wait. Every moment they watch, they see exactly what we want them to see. When the time comes, it won't be us caught in their web. It'll be them, trapped in ours."
The Sanctuary pulsed faintly, as though it too understood. Silence stretched, but now it belonged to the team, not the shadows.
The storm hadn't broken yet—but they were ready.