Lángrén’s nostrils flared, catching the silvery tang of Jason’s challenge. His words, seasoned with ruthless confidence, scraped against her soul. “We are nothing alike,” she snarled, her voice a low growl that echoed through the desolate street. Her muscles bunched, ready to spring, but Supatra’s touch on her arm was a calming force.

“We did not come to fight,” Supatra pleaded, her voice a stark contrast to the rising storm. “He called a Rising,” she explained, her gaze meeting Lángrén’s with a flicker of regret. “A tipping point, as you said.”

Lángrén’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” The question hung heavy in the air, a hollow echo in the wake of chaos.

Jason, ever the pragmatist, speaks with a cynical tone. “The humans...they are like puppies, Lángrén. Barking loud, nipping at each other’s throats, all while the world burns around them. They build walls, draw lines in the earth, quarrel over scraps while hyenas, vultures and jackals circle their heads.” Jason finally admitted, his voice grudging. “Their fear became our cage.”

He glanced at the smoldering ruins of a once-familiar building, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “Face it, Lángrén. Humans are a nest of vipers, always spitting venom at each other. They bred wars like rabbits, poisoned their own nests with lies, and blinded themselves to the wolves at the door.” His eyes flicker with a dark amusement. “But oh, how they cling to their shiny toys and their petty squabbles! It’s almost… endearing.”

“Their flaws are many, but they are not without potential. Look at their art, their music, their fierce love for their families. There’s a spark there, a flicker of greatness that could rise above the ashes.” Lángrén scoffed. “So you unleash your fury upon the very ones who were appointed to guard? Is that your freedom to hurt the ones we are supposed to protect?”

“Potential? They’ve been squandering it for millennia. Their fear is their cage, and they dance merrily within its bars, blind to the storm brewing beyond.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t about freedom,” he growled, his voice raw with a suppressed emotion Lángrén had never witnessed before. “It’s about survival. Ours, theirs...everyone’s.” His voice was laced with bitterness, a man who has seen too much darkness. “Lángrén, you mistake chaos for freedom. Humanity needs a shepherd, a firm hand to guide them out of their self-made hell. The King sees it, the precipice they stand upon. This Rising is not just a whim, it’s a necessary jolt, a reset to awaken them from their slumber.”

Lángrén looked confused, her loyalty torn. “A reset? But at what cost? How much suffering will it bring? Look around you, Jason! These were children, families! Your “survival” reeks of ashes and blood!” She gestured to the ravaged street, her voice choked with fury

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Supatra’s voice softened, “Lángrén, please. We know this is...difficult. But Antonio believes there’s another way. A way for all of us to coexist.”

“Suffering is a teacher, Lángrén. Pain can forge a stronger soul. This is not about cruelty, it’s about survival. Humans must shed their old skin, their tribal hatreds, their short-sightedness. Only then can they stand against the true threats lurking in the shadows. You know of the battles we have fought, yet I have gone into the enemies’ camp.” Jason lowered the tension in him. “After their endless wars, their pollution, their denial of everything beyond their own greed. They’re like ants, swarming mindlessly, oblivious to the cracks in their own anthill.”

Lángrén stood defiant, refusing to be a pawn. Her voice grew cold. “So who sees the brewing storm? Him? It’s a storm he is creating. Does he guide the wolves to safety, or herd them into the jaws of the dragon you claim to fear? Herding the sheep with fear, fear that he calls weakness? Their ignorance, a disease to be purged?”

“Perhaps there’s another way, Lángrén. A path where humans, though flawed, can learn to navigate their own skies, and you, We can bridge the gap between worlds. A world where the shepherd and the sheep become partners against the true predators.” Supatra stepped forward, being a peacemaker.

Jason’s eyes flicker with a hint of pain. “Lángrén. I see their potential, buried beneath their petty squabbles. I see the spark of defiance in their eyes, the will to fight for something bigger than themselves. But they’re blind.”

Supatra placed a hand on Lángrén’s arm. “He’s right. The humans are unprepared, vulnerable to threats they can’t even imagine. Antonio believes we can guide them, teach them to see what lies beyond their world.”

Lángrén shook off Supatra’s hand. “Guide them? You speak of “guiding” after this carnage? Antonio calls this a Rising, but I see it for what it is – a culling, a power grab in the dark! My family! My community!”

A low growl escaped his throat. “We are not your enemies, Lángrén. We are trying to protect you, protect them, protect the pack, from a future worse than where they are stumbling toward.”

Lángrén’s eyes blazed. “I don’t need your protection! I have my mate, my cubs. They are my world, and I will defend them, even if it means standing against your “new order.”

SUpatra\s voice cracked, “Lángrén, please. Antonio wants to talk, to explain. He needs you.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken memories, shared battles, and a bitter sting. Supatra shifted uneasily, her hand hovering between her two friends, a silent bridge between their divided loyalties. “I won’t let you take my family,” Lángrén declared, her voice laced with steel. She turned to Supatra, her eyes pleading. “Tell him. Tell Antonio I won’t be his pawn again.” Her voice was an acrid tang of burnt sugar, mirroring the bitter taste of her feelings. Her emotions crackled, a lone ember defying an encroaching wildfire.

Supatra, her gaze a tempestuous swirl of regret and sisterhood, squeezed her hand. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she placed a hand on her former friend’s shoulder.