The cold air of the fortress stung Elvara's lungs as she stepped forward, lightning crackling faintly between her fingers. The masked figure stood motionless at the far end of the corridor, their curved blade humming with ominous energy. Behind Elvara, the soldiers adjusted their stances, their weapons at the ready, their breaths shallow but steady.
'Another champion of the Pact,'
Rynor muttered, stepping to her side.
'How many more of these do they have hidden away?'
'Enough to keep us busy,'
Elvara replied, her tone calm but edged with determination.
'But this one won't leave here alive.'
The masked figure tilted their head, their voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
'Arrogant words for those who tread on borrowed time. You've seen the edge of our power, but you've yet to feel its full weight.'
'Let's skip the speeches,'
Elvara snapped, raising her hands.
