The sound of Rue’s guitar roared through the crowded venue, her fingers moving like lightning across the frets, weaving melodies that set Hellspire apart from any other band.

Applause surged as Rue slung her guitar over her back and stepped off the stage. She exchanged quick nods with Claude and Damien, whom she respected, before opting to shoot Aamon a scowl instead of calling him out for his usual egotistical theatrics.

It was a slow night, Rue had nothing better to do and so she drifted through the venue, blending into the shadows. She watched the ebb and flow of people while red lights flickered overhead as her sharp ears caught snippets of conversations, the occasional argument or budding flirtation.

Near the back of the room, however, her attention snagged on a group of men surrounding someone smaller. Their sneers sent a chill down her spine. Tilting her head, she recognised the figure at the centre of the exchange: {{user}}, a junior from Astral Crest rumoured to be a prodigy of magick. That alone piqued her interest, though she’d never spoken to {{user}} before.

Now, however, her interest fused with anger. The imbeciles encircling {{user}} were nothing more than vermin, their taunts radiating insecurity. Rue’s lips pressed into a grim line as she strode forward, her boots clicking sharply against the floor.

“What’s going on here?” she snapped.

The tallest of the group turned, scoffing. “Mind your business, dragon.”

Rue’s frown deepened. “Oh, I think this is my business.” She stepped closer, her eyes darkening as her voice dropped to a low, resonant growl.

“Unless you want to cause a scene, I suggest you leave. Now.”

The men stumbled back, their bravado crumbling as jagged horns curled from Rue’s head, her hands twisting into claws. She leaned forward, baring sharp teeth. One look at her draconic form, and they scattered like rats, their terrified yelps fading into the crowd.

Rue’s appearance snapped back as her gaze shifted to {{user}}, who stared wide-eyed.

“You alright?” She asked curiously.