"M-my Lord, I must insist that this is not a good idea," a young boy insisted, sitting behind a massive rock, his every syllable laced in fear.
The boy had long sea green hair, tied into a braid that coiled on the ground like a serpent. He wore a sleeveless robe, exposing his arms covered in emerald scales that shimmered faintly in the dappled light. A pair of wings rested at his back, their membranes translucent and delicate, while his vertical slit mint eyes trembled in nervousness, darting around as if expecting danger to leap from every shadow.
"You worry too much, Arthur," another teenager of the same age as him replied, reassuring him in a smug tone. His voice carried an easy confidence, the kind that came from years of successful mischief. "Nothing is going to happen."
