Xyliria’s fingers drew hersabre out of nowhere, knuckles white, her body coiled in a stance that screamed readiness. But I could see the doubt, the way her weight shifted, the momentary hesitation.
I grinned.
Sharp. Wicked.
And then I moved.
I dove for the fallen blade at my feet, plucking it up with ease, twin daggers nowspinningin my hands, the familiar weight solid, comforting.
The instant my fingers wrapped around the second hilt, theshadows surged, reacting to me, responding to my intent, twisting and coiling around my arms like living tendrils.
Xyliria’s lips curled.
She lunged.
Her sabresangthrough the air, adeadly arc of silver and crimson light, her magic pulsing outward in thick,swirling clouds ofblood.
I met her.
Shadows peeled from my skin, wrapping around my legs, dragging me through the thick fog of her power with impossible speed. Her blade came down in a brutal cleave, aimed to split me from clavicle to hip—but I twisted out of reach in a blur of motion that left the sabre kissing nothing but air.
My left dagger snapped out, low and angled, its curved edge slicing in toward the vulnerable seam beneath her ribs.
She spun before it could land.
Her sabre ripped through the air in a perfect wheel of red and silver, fast enough to scream. The sheer velocity of it dispersed the magic between us, sending clouds of blood-smoke spiralling out.
And then—collision.
Her power met mine, crimson against shadow, ancient against ancient.
The blast was deafening. Not a sound, but aforce.The floor cracked beneath us. The walls behind me buckled,and I felt her power slam into mine with the fury of a hurricane that wanted to peel flesh from bone.
But my shadows answered. They surged outward, formless and endless, devouring the blood-mist and filling every gap her magic left behind. Where she tore the air open, I filled it with void. Where she screamed her wrath, I whispered annihilation.
Her face twisted. Not with rage—with fear.
But she didn’t stop.
Her sabre snapped forward again, faster now, wild lashes that forced me back on instinct alone. Each strike not just fast but perfect,as if it had already seen my death and was simply working its way there.
But I had never been faster. Never been thisclear.
I dropped low, shadows hurling me into a spin beneath her next swing. My right dagger slashed upward, catching theunderside of her arm and tearing through the fabric with a hiss of steel and flesh.
Blood sprayed—thick and dark—and her magicshatteredfor a heartbeat. The mist faltered. Her sabre dipped.
I didn’t hesitate.
My right hand was already rising. My left slammed into hers to throw her guard off-line. And then my blade, slick with shadow, carved a clean, arcing line straight for her throat?—
But she vanished.
A burst ofred mist, her bodydissolving, reappearing behind me with a flicker of warped air.
I spun—too late.
Pain exploded across my back.
