Schlanger, King of the Darklands, leaned forward, his crimson cloak pooling around him like blood spilled upon the marble floor. His eyes, deep and piercing, bore into Jim with barely concealed scorn.
“Have you got the last word, boy?” he sneered, his voice like steel grating upon stone.
Jim, standing at the heart of the chamber, met his gaze with infuriating calm. A smirk curled his lips. “I’ll save my last words for later,” he said, his voice laced with an arrogance that made the air bristle. “I’m not done yet.”
A low chuckle echoed across the chamber—deep, guttural, and entirely amused. Jagyada, Lord of the Beasts, ran a hand through his thick mane of grey hair, his golden eyes alight with mirth.
“Hah! I like you more and more, lad,” he mused, his voice rolling like distant thunder.
