Slaide smirked. Then he struck.
Block. Parry. Strike. Repeat.
Minutes stretched into hours. The sky darkened with the threat of an impending storm.
Hazel’s arms were shaking, her resolve about to give out. Sweat beaded her brow and matted her wild hair. Before her, Slaide looked utterly unbothered. His sword was still steady in his hands, eyes fixed on her in an expression she couldn’t figure out.
“Again,” he commanded.
She winced. “You’re going to break me.”
“Then become unbreakable,” he snapped. “Again.”
She raised the sword high and put every last ounce of strength she had into her strike—only to have the blow deflected with ease.
Hazel dropped to her knees in defeat.This is fucking insane.
And if her battered body and ego weren’t enough, the sky chose thatmoment to split open, a deluge of water dumping onto them.Thank the gods. We can be done.
Slaide walked over to her, his mouth tight, eyes sharp. Rain traced his jawline before dripping from his chin. “Get up.”
Hazel’s heart pummeled her ribcage, feeling as loud as the thunder around them. Her senses heightened, the most primal parts of her screamingrun. The sharp sensation of true fear zapped through her body. Still, she got back to her feet.
“Stop. Holding. Back,” he growled.
“I’m not—” Hazel’s words were cut off by the slash of Slaide’s blade.
She barely deflected it, the wood of her practice sword splintering slightly against the force of the blow. Any thoughts she had of complaining were washed away when she met his eyes.
Solid black eyes. Pools of the blackest ink. The locket heated.
“Maybe it’s time you learn how it feels, Hazel. To be hunted by a foe that willdestroyyou. To be so outmatched your only chance of surviving is mercy.”
A flurry of strikes followed, faster and more relentless, causing Hazel to stagger backward. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
“Slaide—”
“Block!” he barked, raining another blow down on her. “Move your damn feet!” Another blow. “Survive, Hazel.”
His expression was as emotionless as a boulder. There was no prideful smirk as their swords clashed again, no teasing glint in his eyes. Just darkness and the promise of ruthlessness in his onyx eyes.
Hazel lost her footing in the fray and fell, mud splashing up her legs as she collided with the wet ground. The practice sword,barely holding itself together better than she was, flew from her hands.
She was disarmed, and her opponent was out for blood.
BIG BAD WOLF
The locketburned.Slaide loomed over her, his chest rising and falling. His expression grew dark with murderous intent as he raised his sword once more. Lightning flashed, illuminating him like an otherworldly being. Like a god.
Hazel squeezed her eyes shut, fully convinced he would bring the blade down and end her. Slaide was done playing games and had, in fact, decided to execute her.
A moment of deafening silence passed, followed by a thud in the grass. Hazel opened her eyes, her breath hitching.
Slaide’s sword was on the ground beside hers.
Anger welled within her, where gratitude should be. “What the Hel was that?”
He crouched beside her, raindrops carving intricate paths down his face. “That,” he said, voice gravelly and low, “was mercy. And this is theonlytime you’ll get it.”
