When you step toward Minthara, the entire training yard holds its breath.
She does not flinch.
She does not blink.
But when you take her jaw gently in your hand and kiss her — openly, shamelessly — there is a quiet shockwave through the tribe.
Ogres shift awkwardly.
Myconids glow faintly like lanterns.
Shadowheart smirks softly, amused and unsurprised — she knows how your tribe loves boldly.
Minthara melts only for a second beneath the kiss, that hard blue fire in her eyes flickering with something tender before she snaps back into her sharp, disciplined posture.
Your words cut straight through the stunned silence:
"Would you be willing to give up your position as general of my armies…?"
A heavy question.
A position she earned in blood, fire, and unwavering loyalty.
You can feel the entire Snake Tribe listening.
Minthara's Eyes Flicker — a Rare Cracking of the Armor
She rises slowly, every movement deliberate, reverent.
Then she steps closer, closing the tiny distance you left between you — her voice dropping so only you, Shadowheart, and the nearest warriors can truly hear.
"Warchief…"
Her hand lifts to your chest — a gesture she has never made in public.
"…my loyalty is to you before any title."
She looks out over the training grounds — her soldiers, her battalions, the drills she shaped.
"But my heart…"
A pause.
"…is also bound to this tribe. To its strength. To what we've built."
She turns back to you.
"But this decision affects more than my pride. More than my ambition."
Her voice softens.
"It affects you."
She Lowers Her Head — Not in submission, but in honesty
"If becoming Arcaeon's diplomat strengthens you, strengthens Shadowheart, strengthens the future of the Snake Tribe…"
Her eyes rise, burning with fierce devotion.
"…then yes. I would surrender my role as general."
Then she adds, quiet enough that it's only for you:
"Just tell me this is what you truly want of me."
Shadowheart Steps Forward Slowly
Not jealous.
Not threatened.
Just calm, perceptive, and steady.
"If Minthara leaves her post," she says gently, "we will need someone strong enough — and wise enough — to train our warriors in her place."
She looks at you with full trust, but also with expectation.
"Who would you choose, Mamba?"