Michael dashed forward through the burning wards, golden light flaring in his wake.
Valeth met him first.
"You're quick," Valeth muttered, vanishing into shadow mid-strike.
Michael rolled, dragging a card along the floor. It left behind a glowing glyph.
"Quicker than your punchlines."
Valeth reappeared at his back—dagger aimed at Michael's ribs.
Too late.
The glyph detonated.
Valeth was blown back into the wall, cloak singed.
"Ow," he muttered.
Michael didn't stop. He turned on Death next.
She stood unmoving, veil fluttering, arm lifted as reality around her twisted.
The books began to burn without flame. The air slowed.
"I see you now," she whispered.
"Yeah?" Michael replied. "Good luck keeping up."
He hurled three cards. They hovered midair—then shattered into mirror shards.
Each shard formed a projection of Michael—five duplicates surrounding her.
Death's eyes narrowed.
"Tricks."
"And treats," all five Michaels said in unison.
She moved.
