The golden light of the dying sun cast long shadows across the palace gates as Raven's group approached.
The entrance had changed.
Gone were the familiar palace guards in their polished bronze and navy. In their place stood a new formation—two rows of soldiers in black-and-gold plate, faces covered, spears etched with faint enchantments that made the air hum subtly.
Their auras rippled like a storm barely held in check. Raven slowed his pace, hands still in his pockets, as if strolling toward a tea shop and not a battalion of high-tier knights ready to flex.
"Let's play a game," he murmured to the group behind him. "Guess how long it takes for the first one to say something dumb."
Jessy cracked her knuckles. "Five seconds."
"Three," Siris whispered, practically vibrating.
"Squeak," Nibbles squeaked with utter certainty as he raised one paw.
As they neared the threshold, one of the black-and-gold knights stepped forward.
