There’s no wind.

  That’s the first thing I notice.

  The air is cold, but still. Too still. The grass doesn’t move, the low trees at the edges don’t creak. The sky is clear—no clouds, no noise. As if someone had swept the place clean.

  Elena walks close to me. She stops at my side without touching me. She feels it too, even if she can’t name it.

  The pressure comes before the light. We both feel it.

  Lucian appears, walking down the hill toward us. Light armor. Plates visible on shoulders and forearms. White tabard with golden trim. A light sword in hand—drawn, radiant, like an extension of his own body.

  I’m almost honored that he came fully equipped. It also means there’s no room left for negotiation.

  I tighten my gloves and check that my vials are still within reach.

  “You came,” he says. Then he looks at Elena. “But I see you didn’t come alone.”

  I set my jaw and move her aside.

  “She wanted to be here.”

  “Good,” he says. “Then she can see firsthand why I’m right.”

  The pressure intensifies. Elena takes the chance to move to higher ground.

  “Let’s agree on something,” Lucian says. “Elena’s position is off-limits.”

  “For once, we agree.”

  I take my stance.

  Lucian flashes for half a second. In the blink of an eye, the light sword is already at my face.

  I barely have time to react.

  I manage to move the air just enough to deflect the thrust. Not enough. I still feel a deep cut across my face—heat first, then blood.

  I stumble back three steps, more from surprise than damage. I don’t waste time. I snap my fingers and ignite the air around him.

  The explosion doesn’t throw him far. It pushes him—just a few meters. But it buys me time to think.

  I try to manipulate the air around him, to suffocate him—but at the first shift in pressure, I feel him at my side again. This time the blade comes down from above.

  I dodge sideways, but I can’t avoid the full impact. The sword slams straight into my left shoulder guard. The pain drops me to one knee.

  I see the paladin smiling.

  I can’t stand it.

  I inhale all the air I can and compress the pressure around me, shoving him back with everything I have. This time I send him much farther—but against an enemy like him, it might not be enough.

  My veil absorbed what should’ve been lethal damage, but the shoulder still gives way.

  Not now. I need a few more minutes.

  If only I could set the entire damn place on fire.

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  I glance at Elena. She looks worried. Confused. I don’t blame her. I don’t let myself think about her again.

  Lucian is still standing—and I already know how fast and strong he is.

  “Is that all?” he asks.

  “I’m actually holding back.”

  Before he can close the distance again, I overwhelm him with fire. I generate every spark I can, igniting the air around him again and again until the paladin is engulfed in flames.

  To my surprise, he walks out of the fire.

  Slowly. But walking.

  I catch it then.

  Sweat.

  “Paladins are the ultimate weapons against mages,” he says. “Unlike you, our veils regenerate almost instantly. And our speed and striking power let us close distance faster.”

  The moment he finishes that last word, he vanishes.

  I don’t hesitate. I need elevation.

  I kick the ground. The earth beneath my feet rises into a temporary platform. That seems to surprise Lucian—just enough for him to pause.

  I take the opening and launch compressed air slashes. I feel them connect, but I don’t see real damage.

  I land.

  “You have an impressive veil,” I say, dipping my head slightly. “But you’re not breathing the same anymore.”

  He’s not smiling now.

  That’s bad.

  I’m bluffing—but my condition isn’t good. If this keeps up, I lose.

  Lucian flashes again. Another charge coming. His veil holds too well. The only way to stop him is to drain him completely.

  The thought doesn’t scare me.

  But I’ll have to give everything.

  I take a deep breath.

  I feel Lucian commit to his move. As he charges, I slam my foot down. The ground cracks open in front of me, throwing off his balance.

  My chance.

  I use the air around me to move as fast as I can toward him. I can’t match his speed—but I can collapse the distance. This is the right moment.

  For half a second, Lucian doesn’t look so confident.

  I keep catalyzing the air, accelerating my strikes. Before each blow, I create sparks between us—the compression and ignition acting like pistons, amplifying every hit.

  Lucian stops abruptly under the impact and tries to counter with his sword. I block it with the reinforced back of my glove.

  It hurts.

  I’m pretty sure I just broke my hand.

  But it gives me enough room to deflect the sword and keep punishing him with blows.

  My arms grow heavy. My body follows.

  I can’t waste more time.

  One more spark in the space between us.

  An uncontrolled explosion.

  We’re both thrown in opposite directions.

  I think I’m still alive—though I feel awful.

  The world blurs. The air doesn’t feel right anymore. My hands shake. My head throbs. I don’t know if it’s dehydration or the point-blank explosion I just caused.

  One second.

  I just need one second.

  I grab a vial and tear it open, bringing it to my mouth—

  It explodes before I can take more than a sip.

  The light sword pierces it cleanly. The liquid evaporates into the air. The sword lands near Elena and goes dark.

  By the time I register it, Lucian is already on top of me.

  He looks bad too. Exhausted. Burns on his face. His shoulder plates are gone, and the pristine tabard is shredded.

  He kicks me while I’m down. The impact sends me sliding back. The veil absorbs part of it—but it’s enough to empty my lungs.

  I can barely stand. My legs cramp violently.

  “You’re empty,” he says.

  “You… too…”

  Lucian steps closer and removes his forearm guards and gloves.

  We’re close now.

  The first impact isn’t an exchange—it’s a collision. Shoulder to shoulder. Knee to thigh. Our veils absorbing just enough to keep us alive, flickering at their limit.

  I punch him in the stomach. There’s resistance—he still has his chest plate. Bastard.

  He answers with a short blow to my chest that sends me back. Thankfully, my ceramic plates still hold—for now.

  Lucian charges again. With inhuman speed, he grabs me by the neck and slams me into the ground. Something cracks in my back.

  The veil holds.

  Barely.

  Blood floods my mouth.

  I jam both thumbs into his eyes, blinding him with his own moisture. It’s enough to get him off me.

  We separate by barely a meter.

  We’re both breathing like animals.

  That trick burned my last reserve.

  My vision doubles. There’s no way I’ll get another vial now—and even if I did, I doubt it would change anything.

  My body trembles. I don’t know if it’s exertion, adrenaline, or because my veil has nothing left to draw from.

  Lucian watches me.

  Not calculating anymore.

  Something more primal.

  His eyes are inflamed. He wipes blood from the corner of his mouth.

  I crook my fingers at him.

  “Come here.”

  He charges.

  This time the fight isn’t clean.

  We crash together. Roll across the ground. Fists. Elbows. Knees. Each impact makes the veil flicker on and off like a faulty light.

  I don’t know how much time passes.

  Seconds. Minutes.

  At some point, we’re both standing again—barely separated, held upright by instinct alone.

  Lucian’s veil is barely holding.

  Mine stopped regenerating a while ago.

  We’re at the edge.

  We both know it.

  The next blow could decide something neither of us wants to name.