For two days, the Golden Sanctuary stood silent. The harem team kept their vigilance sharp, studying every trace left behind. Mukul's golden threads constantly pulsed, warning him that stillness never meant safety.
And then—it began.
The air grew heavy, as though the Sanctuary itself was holding its breath. Faint ripples of shadow energy crawled across the marble walls, weaving into patterns that didn't belong.
"They're back," Meera whispered, her hand instinctively going to her bow. "But this isn't a full invasion. It's... testing us."
Kavya's lips curved into a sly smile. "Stylish comeback. Shadows don't roar; they slither. Always subtle. Always clever. Let's see what card they're playing this time."
Anaya crouched, her palms hovering over the floor. "Energy flows are fragmented—probing attacks, not concentrated strikes. They're mapping our defences. Testing reactions. Every move is deliberate."
Saira's calm presence steadied them. "This is no simple attack. It is an observation. They provoke us to study our unity, our timing, our trust. We must not overreact."
Liyana perched on the upper ledge, eyes scanning every flicker. "Stylish probes, hidden movements. They want us to chase illusions and waste strength. Stay sharp."
Mukul raised his hand, golden threads shimmering outward like a net of light. They touched each of his companions, connecting them in silent understanding. "We hold formation. Don't scatter. They want cracks, and we'll give them none."
The first strike came from the east corridor. A surge of shadow blades cut through the air, sharp and soundless. Meera loosed three arrows in response, each wrapped in energy, pinning the blades midair before they reached the group.
"Fast… too fast," Meera muttered. "They're studying my speed."
From the west, a ripple of distorted space formed. Kavya dashed forward, dagger gleaming, and slashed through it. The distortion collapsed like broken glass. She twirled her weapon with a laugh. "Stylish trick. But too fragile. They're not here to win—they're here to learn."
Anaya traced lines in the air, her eyes narrowing. "They're testing limits. Sensing how quickly we adapt. Every strike, every illusion is part of a larger puzzle."
Saira's threads expanded in harmony with Mukul's, reinforcing barriers. "Our calm is our shield. We do not dance to their rhythm. They will find no weakness."
Above, Liyana leapt, dismantling a shadow construct before it could fully form. "Stylish illusions. Stylish attempts. But none pass my sight."
The probes continued—small bursts of energy, phantom figures, distorted echoes. None were fatal, but each demanded attention, forcing the team to work in perfect sync.
Minutes stretched into hours. Then—silence.
The shadows withdrew once more, dissolving into the walls as if they had never been there.
Meera lowered her bow, breathing hard. "That wasn't a fight. That was... assessment."
Kavya twirled her dagger with a grin, though her eyes glinted sharply. "Stylish assessment. They wanted to taste our rhythm, measure our flow. And we gave them nothing but perfection."
Anaya straightened, her hands still glowing faintly. "No weakness shown. But remember—information itself is power. They have learned something, even if small."
Saira placed a hand over her heart, her voice steady. "Our unity was tested, and it held. That is what matters most. Trust is our true defence."
Liyana landed gracefully beside Mukul. "Stylish retreat again. But it feels different this time. They're not just testing anymore. They're preparing."
Mukul's golden aura dimmed to a steady glow, his voice calm but firm. "This was only the prelude. They've measured our defences. The next time they come, it won't be with probes. It will be with intent. And we'll be ready."
The Golden Sanctuary pulsed faintly, its walls reflecting the team's unshaken resolve. Though the shadows retreated once more, everyone knew—the real battle was only beginning.