Roland didn't give her time to recover.
The mist swirled with his steps, every movement light but heavy with intent. His daggers gleamed with the edge of the wind, humming like they could cut through silence itself.
Her whip coiled protectively around her arm, dripping and restless. Her lungs ached, but she steadied them. If she faltered now, Roland would carve her apart without hesitation.
He lunged again.
The air rippled with his speed— no longer just movement, his speed borderd on the distortion of space. His braid whipped around his face as he vanished into another gust.
She braced herself for the imminent collision, but his overwhelming speed was too much for her.
He appeared on her left— dagger thrust forward.
Crack!
She blocked with her whip, pressure colliding against his blade. The recoil shook her arm, bones ringing from the clash.
Roland twisted, his second dagger slicing toward her throat.
She dropped low, water surging beneath her feet.
