And the wind bent.
Literally.
Merlin's body flipped, once, twice, before slamming hard into the dirt. Dust coughed up all around him, dry and biting. He grunted, rolled over, and pushed himself up, ribs throbbing.
The white-haired man stood exactly where he'd been.
No emotion. No movement. Just waiting.
Merlin's heart pounded.
'This is control. This is pressure so fine it doesn't even bother announcing itself.'
He stood, slower this time. "Are you… testing me?"
"No," the man said. "I'm showing you the gap."
Merlin exhaled, brushing dirt from his sleeve.
"And how big is it?"
The white-haired man didn't blink.
"You're halfway there."
Merlin nodded once. Didn't argue.
"Alright," he said, shaking the dirt from his coat. "Then show me again."
The man raised one hand.
Smiled.
And stepped forward.
—
The step was quiet.
