Her blade sang with arcs of brilliant red mana that danced along its edge like miniature lightning bolts. She pressed forward aggressively, steps pounding across the marble. Her hair flared in tandem with her swings, testament to the raw energy surging through her. Draven blocked her once, twice, thrice, pivoting with an unhurried grace that made her want to scream.
Then, at last, she performed a feint. She lunged left, her mana spiking, only to shift direction at the last second. The watchers gasped. Draven's eyes narrowed. The tip of her blade hissed dangerously close to his side, grazing the fabric of his robe. She felt a thrum of triumph. Maybe she'd finally caught him off-guard.
The instant passed quickly. Draven twisted away, sliding out of her reach with minimal fuss, as though he had known precisely how close to let her get. For the first time, she glimpsed the faint lines of tension in his posture, the slightest wrinkle in that cold facade. It was enough to make her grin.
