The world seemed to hang in the balance, the air thick with the hum of dark magic as the ritual reached its crescendo. Amara's sword clashed with the sect leader's weapon, the force of their collision sending shockwaves through the ground beneath them. Each strike echoed with the fury of the storm above, the swirling black clouds mirrored by the magic crackling around them.
The leader's eyes burned with an unnatural light, a glow that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the storm. Their face was twisted into a smile that sent chills down Amara's spine. "Do you feel it, Amara? The power you cannot hope to contain."
Amara gritted her teeth, pushing against the weight of the leader's magic. "I've faced worse than you."
The leader laughed, their voice echoing unnaturally. "Worse than me? You haven't even begun to understand what's coming."