A Battle for Affection

The tension in the training grounds was almost palpable. The charred remnants of Faeralys and Fialova's earlier duel still smoldered in patches, the air alive with faint traces of lingering magic.

Esmeralda, however, seemed entirely unbothered by the destruction. With her arms crossed and her usual smirk plastered across her face, she strode to the center of the field as though she owned it.

"Well," she began, her voice dripping with mockery, "I couldn't just sit on the sidelines while the two of you prance around showing off your mediocre magic. Let's see what the 'great wives' of Argider are made of, shall we?"

Faeralys stiffened, her crimson hair flickering like embers as her pride flared. "You're bold for someone who has no magic."

"Who said I have no magic?"