One moment, it was a statue of stillness. The next, it was upon them.
The sheer speed was impossible. Not just fast—wrong. Like the space between its movements folded in on itself, reducing the time between steps to something unnatural. The glaive cut through the air in a wide, merciless arc, shrieking as metal met stone.
Kael's instincts screamed at him, and he barely twisted out of the way in time. The blade missed his skull by a fraction, carving deep into the stone where he had stood only heartbeats before. Shards of rock and dust exploded outward from the impact, stinging his face, filling the air with the acrid scent of burning magic.
Liora was already moving. He was fast—Kael had seen him take down men in the blink of an eye, his daggers striking with pinpoint precision before his enemies even realized they were dead. He struck now, a blur of movement, his blades flashing as he lunged for the figure's side, aiming for the gaps in the armor.
