Ren stepped forward, the spikes on Bloodsucker's club end rattling faintly like a caged beast desperate for freedom.
His breath came in steady, measured inhales as he scoped out the space between himself and Mirabella: the sunlit marble tiles of the arena floor, the glittering crowd beyond the barrier, and the faint shimmer of ice clinging to every surface in her wake.
He let his gaze travel up her silver hair, braided back with a single violet ribbon, and linger on the dagger in her hand; its blade frosted with a thick, crackling sheath of ice that glittered like a captured lightning bolt.
In that moment, everything slowed for Ren. He felt the pounding in his veins matching the distant roar of the crowd, heard his own heartbeat humming in his ears like a war drum.
He frowned, silent and serious, and Mirabella returned the gaze with a calm, graceful narrowing of her eyes. Then, without a word, they launched into motion.
Swish!
