"Drakonix, that is no way to greet a friend," came a melodic voice, calm yet commanding.
A woman stepped forward with slow, measured grace. Her long black hair was intricately braided, and her figure was adorned in a fitted, exquisite black dress that shimmered subtly with strands of shadow. Her face, ageless and heartbreakingly beautiful, carried a regal air, unmarred by time.
Drakonix narrowed his eyes. "Rebecca, what do you want? I may be weaker than you, but I swear, I won't go down without a fight." His aura began to rise, scales glowing faintly in warning.
Rebecca blinked, stunned for a moment. Then, to Greg's surprise, she burst into a peal of laughter that echoed off the walls like wind chimes in the dark.
"Come now, Drakonix. No need to be so uptight," she said casually, walking closer. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a plush chair formed entirely from coiling darkness, sinking into it with elegance. "I'm not here to kill you, stupid."
