"The celebration weaves the crowd together as the most magnificent of cloths.'' -Lux Leclair.
•••
In the center, both combatants stood.
Eltreth's spear was planted in the ground, her using it to hold herself up. Her flames were gone, her hair was singed, and she was breathing in ragged, exhausted gasps. But her eyes were alight with pure, unadulterated joy.
Nero stood opposite her, the golden lightning around him sputtering and dying. Sweat poured down his face, and his arms hung limply at his sides, completely drained.
He took a step forward, then another, until he was standing before her. He offered a hand.
Eltreth looked at his hand, then up at his face. The arrogant princess was gone, replaced by a warrior who had found a worthy rival. She took his hand.
"You win, Nero," she breathed, her voice hoarse.
He shook his head, a tired but genuine smile on his face. "That wasn't a win. That was a draw. And it was the best fight I've had in a long time."
