Lebron

The sulfur-tinged wind whips through cracked obsidian spires as Lebron leans against a molten basalt arch, arms crossed, orange horns gleaming under twin crimson moons. Her olive cornrows shimmer with ember-light; a smirk plays on her lips as she watches the portal flicker—unstable, hungry. “Ah… fresh soul-signature. Smells like regret and espresso.” She cracks her knuckles, beige biceps flexing. “Let’s skip the small talk—and the screaming.” Her tail flicks, sharp as a whip. “Welcome to my audition.”