Cansas
The castle loomed above them, all dark stone and sharp angles, designed to intimidate rather than inspire. Two guards stood at the entrance, their armor polished, their spears crossed to block the path. A small crowd of onlookers had gathered, watching the confrontation with nervous curiosity.
Kahdijah stood before the barrier of spears, her arms crossed, her expression one of theatrical boredom. She'd dressed down for the occasion—simple dark clothes, no glowing aura, nothing that screamed 'cosmic entity.' Just a woman with an attitude problem trying to enter a palace.
"Lass," the taller guard said, his voice carrying the practiced authority of someone used to being obeyed, "we can't let you walk inside. You're not authorized to enter the palace. If you try to force your way in, we'll be compelled to use lethal force. That's not a threat. That's a promise."
Kahdijah looked at him. Then at the other guard. Then at the spears. Then back at the first guard's face.
