The referee fled from the field instantly. I would have laughed but for my precarious situation.
"Do you think I would let you win over me, witch?" The dark mage gloated, finding strength in his knees, standing erect, cold eyes washing over me.
I let him lift me above the ground, even squirmed my legs for show, pretending to be struggling in the confines of the dark threads.
But as much as I had been late to stop the spinning threads, I had been fast enough to activate my body heat, the innate magic that surrounded my skin, that stopped nonsense from penetrating.
Around us, more cheers, for the male.
Unstable dorks.
"You can't speak? Don't worry, I will make sure to pay you in kind. I will make sure your voice pulls down the field…"
I looked down at him then, smiling like a Cheshire cat, when he frowned; when his eyes narrowed, when he became aware that I wasn't bleeding, that there were no cuts on my skin.
Fool could finally see it.
