Jealousy (4)

Raphael Earhart

 

Awareness crashed into me like a tidal wave as I felt the warm blood seeping from my right flank. Kiall's strike hadn't ended with the initial contact; he'd used wind magic to craft a lingering blade of air that pursued me like a phantom. It struck a second later, a ghostly echo of his original attack. The brilliance of his move lay in its simplicity—unexpected, and devastatingly effective. My underestimation of his skills had cost me dearly.

 

Though the wound brought sharp pain and discomfort, it wasn't deep enough to be fatal. But that wasn't the real issue. I could feel my grasp on the Stellar Radiance Style. The silvery glow enveloping my rapier flickered, its light dimming with every passing second. My body, pushed beyond its limits, was failing me. The state I'd entered was slipping through my fingers, leaving me vulnerable.