******
The courtyard was chaos, a storm of blood, screams, and steel. Yet within it all, the battle between Aveline Vale and Lorraine Anderson could scarcely be called a fight.
Lorraine no longer moved like flesh and bone. She was something else entirely, fluid, ethereal, untouchable. Her silvery hair floated as though carried by a phantom wind, her glowing white eyes unblinking, her every step gliding rather than walking. She barely seemed tethered to the ground, yet every motion she made carried lethal intent.
Aveline lunged at her with claws bared, screaming her fury, but Lorraine swayed aside effortlessly, a whisper of movement, and Aveline's strike hit nothing but air. Lorraine's arm rose, a flick of her wrist, and Aveline staggered as though slammed by an invisible wall. Again she came forward, desperate, fast, but Lorraine was faster. A twist of her fingers sent Aveline sprawling, her ribs audibly cracking.
It was not a duel. It was execution.
