Asthia’s grip around her sword tightened. Light spilled from the blade, throwing long shadows down the staircase.
Elenya furrowed her brow. Mana at her fingers, strands of pale blue congealing into ice.
"That mana over there. a mana abomination?"
Asthia glanced at her. "Hmm."
She advanced.
The stairwell opened into a chamber too wide for the light of their blades to fill. Pillars leaned half-broken against the walls, and the ceiling groaned under the weight of years.
There, the air was thick with rot and rust. At its core, an orb pulsed with a sickly heartbeat, tendrils of black mana crawling over the stone.
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Elenya’s eyes barely flickered. The beast was loud, clumsy; to her, its rage was no more threatening than rain against glass.
It came from the far wall. Stand-tall as a man, ribs pulled tight over graying skin. Its jaw yawned too far wide, jagged teeth coated with slime—and then it smiled.
A twisted curl of the jaw, as though prey had been trapped. But it didn’t know who the true prey was.
The smile broadened. Then it attacked.
Claws skidded on stone, sparks flying as the beast charged. The chamber trembled beneath its passage.
Elenya did not move.
The initial blow landed, heavy as a mallet. It stopped a breath from her cheek, burning against a diaphanous screen of blue light. Waves disturbed the air, claw scrabbling against magic in a scream.
Growling, the creature attacked again, both fists pounding down. Elenya raised her hand in careless ease. The blows were deflected aside, tearing gashes into the earth where they should have hit her. Splinters exploded past her cheek. She didn’t waver.
It recoiled, heaving in its chest. Then, that brute strength not working, there was a growling building in its ribs. Its chest cleft wider—releasing a choking blanket of viridian vapour, rolling out as an avid wave.
Elenya let her breath out, more or less a yawn. A wrist-flick lacerated the air. The poison writhed back, was swept back in a brief spume, splashing safely against the distant wall where it hissed and consumed rock.
The beast snarled, its grin twisting further, challenging her to sneer again.
Elenya advanced. One step. Each swipe missed. One claw scraped flagstone at her boot, another splintered a column beside her, a third ripped the hem of her cloak. None made contact with her.
She smiled.
Asthia’s sword ignited beside her, golden light pouring into the chamber.
"Keep it alive," Asthia commanded.
Elenya’s eyes never wavered from the monstrosity. The abomination’s follow-up strike hit the earth where she’d stood.
"Yes."
Asthia’s blade howled, gold fire scorching the room. The abomination spun.
One swing—shoulder to rib—cut through tainted meat like paper. Black blood spat as the gash radiated light, veins bursting forth with it.
The creature twitched, its center thrashing as it attempted to heal.
Asthia left no opening. She flowed like a warrior who’d killed a thousand times, driving her sword into its chest.
The blade went into the center. Golden light poured out in a wave, washing over everything it touched. The chamber shook. The monstrosity shrieked—its sound cracking to static—before settling into ash and filth.
The corrupted mana convulsed, then burned, disintegrating to harmless wisps in the light of the sword.
Silence.
Asthia drew back her blade, the thrumming dying. There was only distant heat where the beast had been.
Elenya breathed once through her nose, curling her fingers, shaking off frost. Her smirk returned again.
"Well, that was easier than I expected," she said with a laugh.
Asthia nodded, sheathing sword. She did not see the thin line of red across her lip before it fell to the ground.
Elenya did. Her eyes narrowed, the smile dying.
"You’re bleeding."
Asthia blinked, rubbing under her nose. Red tinted her glove when she wiped it off.
"It’s nothing."
"Nothing?" Elenya’s tone softened. She looked at Asthia a moment too long, eyes keen, reading between the lines.
Asthia wrapped her cloak around her more tightly, as if that could close the topic.
"We go," she said.
"Fine. But keep yourself back."
Asthia turned away, cloak pulling tight around her shoulders. But Elenya’s hand caught her wrist before she could move further.
"Sit."
Asthia blinked at her, almost affronted. "We don’t have the time—"
"We do,"
"You’re bleeding, your balance is off, and if you collapse in the middle of a fight, you’ll be nothing but dead weight."
Asthia’s lips parted, a rebuttal poised, but Elenya guided her toward a broken slab of stone and pressed her down with a firmness that brooked no argument.
"Rest," Elenya said again, softer this time. "Just for a moment."
Asthia’s jaw tightened, but she obeyed. Her sword lay across her knees, golden steel dimming as though sharing her fatigue. She exhaled, slow, reluctant, as Elenya crouched before her.
"See? Not so hard," Elenya murmured, watching her with that same steady gaze. "Even the strongest blades need tempering."
For a moment, the chamber was still—just the faint hiss of settling dust and the echo of their breaths. Asthia’s eyes lowered, refusing words, but her silence carried more weight than denial.
Then, with a controlled breath, she pushed herself upright. The golden light along her sword stirred faintly, as if unwilling to fade. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders, masking fatigue with ritual motion.
Without a word, she turned.
The pedestal loomed ahead, its orb swollen with black veins that pulsed in rhythm, each vibration like the beat of a malignant heart.
Elenya rose to follow, subdued now, though her eyes never left Asthia’s back.
Asthia’s sword came crashing down against the orb.
It did not shatter like stone, or melt like corruption. Rather, the veins ignited scarlet, not black, branching off into a lattice of runes.
Elenya’s eyes grew wide.
"Asthia—"
The orb shrieked.
Not a sound, but a rending concussion that shuddered the air. Runes burst into incandescent flashes.
The world exploded.
Asthia’s chest buckled inward from the shockwave—like a butt of a ram shattering her ribs. Breath was torn from lungs, ears bursting in static blades.
Then there was heat. A flash-fire engulfed the chamber in blinding orange. Skin burned seared. The tower shuddered, stone dust hissing through the blast wind. The building groaned—shattered—fell. Shards cartwheeled like shrapnel.
She pulled in a shattered gasp, lungs rattling grit and blood. Each breath sliced shallow and raw. Nails clawed stone as she attempted to stand. The floor shook, undecided whether it would stay under her.
Through the fog, a figure.
Cloak in ribbons, body slumped forward, arm locked mid-reach. The final strands of blue shieldlight clung like spiderweb glass, then shattered with a sound too little for the destruction around them.
Smoke curled off charred flesh. Scalded leather seared into her hands. Where fabric had incinerated, blistered raw arms shone, heat still distorting the air. Her knees gave way, shoulders collapsing, the light of magic seeping out in dwindling strands.
Asthia’s face went wide. She scrabbled forward, eyes focusing on Elenya’s stumbling form.
Her lips split with a silent word. Then it grated out.
"...Elenya..."