Elara raised her staff, the frosty energy swirling around her intensifying into a visible aura. The air around her grew colder, and frost began to form on the arena floor beneath her feet. Lyra's smirk faltered for a brief moment but quickly returned, laced with arrogance.
"Alright, little miss," Lyra taunted, spinning her spear lazily with one hand, flames flickering faintly along its length. "Let's see what you've got."
Elara didn't respond. Instead, she thrust her staff forward, releasing a barrage of razor-sharp icicles that shot toward Lyra with blinding speed. The frozen projectiles glinted in the sunlight, their edges keen enough to slice through steel.
