The battlefield was a storm of fire and steel, the remnants of Sarissa's flames still smoldering in the ruins around them. Rain hissed as it met the embers, sending up curls of steam that coiled like ghosts between her and Miles. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her breath coming in short bursts as she held her stance, sword gripped tight, flames flickering at her fingertips.
Miles stood opposite her, unmoving. The eerie red glow of his mask's eyes cut through the misty darkness, and he watched, waiting. He had barely broken a sweat. If anything, he looked amused, the mask's eyes glowing even brighter in blood-red.
Sarissa had always known he was holding back. She had seen glimpses of his true speed and precision, but now, there was no mistaking it. He had been toying with her, but not anymore.
She exhaled sharply, pushing down the doubts clawing at the back of her mind. This wasn't just another fight. This was pure, raw survival. She wouldn't lose.