The forest shattered around us.
He moved like I did—every strike a mirror of mine. Blade against blade. Thought against thought. For every blow I delivered, he knew the counter. For every flicker of magic I summoned, he had already stolen it from my shadow.
"You cannot win," he hissed. "You severed half your soul to survive. Now I am whole. And you,"
"Are dangerous," I finished for him, swinging low, letting rage sharpen the arc of my blade.
He dodged effortlessly, using my old training against me. The trees we once used as sanctuary now exploded into splinters beneath our clash. Every movement echoed across the gods' realm, rippling through its magic, turning divine stillness into a battlefield.
"Don't you see?" he sneered, locking blades. "The cradle didn't cleanse you. It cracked you. You are not divine—you're a fracture pretending to be whole."
I gritted my teeth. "Then let's see which piece bleeds first."
