The Saytan estate in Starfall Enclave had fallen into chaos.
The wrath of the Fla Sovereign had descended upon it.
The flaming tornado extended endlessly upward, swallowing the Raven Spire in its brilliance. The sheer heat made gravel lt beneath it, pooling like liquid glass, shining like a false star in the heart of the capital.
Every powerhouse within the mansion felt it... that overwhelming pressure, that impossible heat.
Generals sprang into action, bursting from doorways and leaping from windows. Even the Marshal erged, his expression grim as he braced to identify the threat that dared attack their stronghold.
Then he saw her.
The young Sovereign, wreathed in flas, standing at the center of a pillar of fire that touched the sky itself.
The Marshal's teeth ground together.
'Cassandra Sinclair'
His body tensed, muscles coiling in preparation for combat.
Then he saw him.
The ancient Sovereign stood before the blazing tornado, utterly calm, one hand stroking his long white beard as he observed the display with what could only be described as impressed curiosity of a master watching his student's progress.
The Marshal's tension eased fractionally.
His gaze shifted.
There. The Sinclair General. The wielder of the twin scythes.
Their eyes t across the burning courtyard.
And in that instant, both warriors understood with perfect, terrible clarity:
'Dawn would sll of blood today. A lot of it.'
Cassandra didn't speak.
There were no words left for what she felt.
The flas surrounding her condensed, compressed, transford. The tornado twisted inward, tightening into a spiraling lance of destruction aid directly at the Sword King.
She hurled it forward.
The projectile scread through the air, a twirling incarnation of wrath. The re gust from its passage made the ground beneath it ignite, carving a longitudinal groove of molten earth in its wake.
The ancient warrior's hand rose with unhurried grace.
Ocean-blue aura crackled around his risen palm, eting the blazing tornado head-on.
The twirling flas spread around his arm like water breaking against stone, dispersing harmlessly, vanishing into scattered embers that died before touching the ground.
But Cassandra had already moved.
The mont the last ember faded, she was there right in front of him, close enough to see the ancient wisdom in his eyes, close enough to sll the scorched earth between them.
Her blazing sword descended like a pillar of fla that could strike the earth in half.
The Sword King danced.
His movent was liquid grace, flowing around the trajectory of her strike as if he'd choreographed it centuries ago.
A runic design ford in his palm, glowing symbols that twisted and solidified until they beca a sharp, matterless blade... a pure aura given temporary form.
He appeared at her back in a heartbeat.
The conjured sword thrust forward, aid for the vulnerable space between her shoulder blades.
But the Sword Saint didn't beco Sword Saint by falling for simple tricks.
Cassandra spun.
Her body twisted with impossible speed and perfect control, the conjured blade passing through nothing but her afterimage as she moved out of its path. Her red ceremonial dress followed the motion silk flowing like liquid fire swirling around her legs, catching the dawn light until she looked less like a woman and more like a goddess of war wrapped in crimson flas.
Her lips pulled back in sothing between rage and exhilaration.
Her erald eyes blazed brighter than her flas. Strands of red hair had escaped their bindings, whipping around her face like living fire.
She was magnificent.
Her flaming sword ca around in a devastating arc, aid at the Sword King's exposed side.
The ancient warrior's conjured blade was already there, impossibly fast despite his casual deanor. The aura sword t the blazing one with a sound like thunder cracking.
CLANG...
The Sword King's blade skidded along the surface of young sovereign's flaming weapon, redirecting rather than blocking.
The parry deflected the angle of her sword to the right, away from his body, creating an opening in her guard.
He didn't hesitate.
His conjured blade drove forward, aiming for the hole in her defense created by the earlier parry exploiting that split-second weakness.
The sword saint reacted with the speed that sha even the finest of assassins. Her hand flicked once and a wall of fla erupted between them.
A perfectly vertical barrier of fire, positioned exactly where she needed it, containing exactly as much power as required and not a single spark more.
The sword king floated backward through the air with the sa graceful ease with which he'd moved forward, his ancient robes spreading around him like wings as he drifted. He landed on the scorched ground with barely a sound, his feet touching earth as softly as falling leaves.
The wall of fla dissipated.
They faced each other across ten feet of burned ground.
Cassandra's chest heaved with exertion, her breath coming in controlled gasps. Sweat glistened on her forehead, but her grip on her sword never wavered. Her red dress clung to her body, the fabric singed at the edges but still flowing with every movent, still catching the light in ways that made her look like she'd been carved from rubies and rage.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, determination etched into every feature of her furious yet beautiful face.
The Sword King stroked his beard once more, that sa impressed expression never leaving his ancient features.
"Your father would be proud," he said quietly, his voice carrying across the distance despite the crackling flas. "You would've surpassed his skill in the near future... if only you didn't co here.."
The words were ant as a complint.
But they were the worst thing he could have possibly said to her.
Cassandra's eyes blazed.
The flas around her intensified, no longer just surrounding her but becoming her until it was impossible to tell where the woman ended and the fire began.
Cassandra surged forward, her blade wreathed in spiraling flas that left trails of light in the dawn air.
She now moved faster than before.
And the dance of blades began again.
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