The moon hung high above the castle, its silver light pouring over the stone walls and the quiet courtyard below.
In the center stood Averis, her long violet hair catching the moonlight like flowing silk. Her eyes were calm, but her spear — a weapon forged from her own blood — pulsed faintly with a crimson glow.
She took a slow breath. Then she moved.
The blood spear sliced through the air with a whistle, leaving faint red trails in its wake. Averis twisted her wrist and spun, her bare feet gliding across the cold marble floor. Each motion was sharp, precise — a dance between grace and danger.
She thrust forward.
The spear extended, stretching like liquid metal before snapping back into shape. The shockwave from her strike blew away fallen leaves around her feet.
