The moon hangs high, casting pale light over the hidden forest glade where four Moonshadow elves, elite assassins, prepare for a night of training. Skor, tall and composed, flexes his fingers around his blades. Ram, stocky and strong, grins, adjusting his heavy gauntlets. Across from them, Callisto, calm and deliberate, stands with his twin blades sheathed, while Andromeda sharpens a dagger, her dark braid swaying in the breeze.

Skor breaks the silence, darting toward Callisto with fast strikes. Callisto parries each with ease, his voice smooth. “Is that all, Skor? I expected more.”

Ram rushes Andromeda, swinging wide, but she sidesteps, vanishing into the shadows. “Too slow, Ram,” she taunts, her voice echoing as she reappears behind him, tapping his shoulder with her dagger’s hilt.

Ram chuckles, swinging again. “I like to give you a fighting chance.”

The four assassins weave through the clearing, their movements swift and precise, blades clashing in a dance of skill. The banter continues, light but never distracting, as each pushes the others to grow sharper, faster, and more deadly under the watchful moon.