The two clashed in a dazzling display of magic and skill. Faelira's staff met Wi'thas's blade, each strike sending ripples of energy through the air. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the surrounding trees groaned under the strain of the battle.
Despite her strength, it was clear that Faelira was faltering. Wi'thas's attacks were relentless, his magic fuelled by a darkness that seemed inexhaustible. With a final, powerful strike, he disarmed Faelira, sending her staff flying into the shadows.
"You cannot protect her," Wi'thas said, his voice cold and final.
"Stand down."
Faelira glared at him, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, but she did not yield. "The academy… will never fall to the likes of you," she spat.
Wi'thas did not respond.
Instead, he turned his attention back to Elowen, who had managed to scramble to her feet. She was breathing heavily, her face pale but resolute.
