The moment Kairn and his team vanished into the darkness, the whole arena seemed to hold its breath.
Maxwell stopped mid-charge, his sword raised, eyes scanning the shifting shadows. The air around him felt heavier, colder, as if the entire battlefield was breathing. The Drevan team had turned the light itself against them—each flicker of movement could be an illusion, a feint, or death coming from the dark.
"Eyes open!" Sylens called out, his voice calm but sharp. "Don't react—read."
Amanda stepped closer to the center, her whip uncoiling with a soft hiss. "Then they better not blink," she muttered, her tone laced with challenge.
A faint sound—like feet brushing against stone—came from the left. Maxwell turned just in time. A shadow lunged out, twin daggers flashing. His sword came up in a smooth arc, meeting the attack with a ringing clash. Sparks lit their faces for half a second—then the shadow vanished again, melting into the gloom.
