[Verdantis: Outskirts]
The winds screamed across the open snowy field. The twisting grotesque eyes and mouths above whispered and grinned, yet Lyra and Aelfric did not look up. The skies were a nightmare, but their focus lay solely upon each other.
Lyra's form was still, the long strands of her black hair whipping in the violent winds. Her red eyes burned like smoldering coals of fury, locked upon Aelfric with absolute, pure hatred. Her black dress billowed.
Aelfric, standing opposite, only smiled. The whispers in the sky did not concern him.
Lyra moved first.
And then—dozens of glyphs spiraled into existence behind her, circling her form like an array of halos. They hummed with thick mana, their edges brimming with black lightning so dense it seemed to drink the remaining light from the world.
A thousand streaks of lightning burst forth.
