The girl stood frozen as she watched her chakrams echo against the earth in a sharp, metallic ring. The sound reverberated through the training ground, a cruel reminder of her helplessness. She wasn't naive enough to believe she could win.
She was talented, undeniably so, but she wasn't foolish. She had expected, at the very least, to exchange a couple of attacks. She believed she could do that much. Yet reality proved her expectations painfully, brutally false.
She had seen the attack coming, her instincts flaring in warning, but her body had refused to respond. She could tell that her opponent, Young Lord Canestane, had even reduced his speed to match hers, almost graciously, almost mockingly, yet she couldn't muster the strength or reflexes to put up even a semblance of a fight.
