The clash of light swords echoed through the Grand Hall like crystalline thunder.
Althea's blade met Easton's again and again, silver sparks blooming midair as luminous trails followed their every strike. Their magic seemed like they danced with each blow. Arcs of radiant energy flared between them in bursts of white and gold, like twin comets locked in a collision.
The air shimmered around them with the sheer beauty of their light magic. Threads of light particles unraveled and reweaved with every step.
But there was no fire behind Easton's eyes.
Althea moved swiftly, parrying a blow that came down in perfect rhythm. Another clash, another exchange. Her blade trembled for a moment under the weight of his. But it wasn't his strength that unsettled her. It was the hollowness.
