Micha'el stood tall atop the sparring platform before Auren.
His golden hair was tied back in a tight warrior's braid that swayed with every slight breeze.
His eyes- bright and sharp like cut citrine- sparkled with a playful glint, as if he were holding back a laugh just for sport. The gentle glow from the mana lanterns overhead bathed his fair skin in a soft radiance, giving him the appearance of a living sculpture- graceful, too perfect, and way too smug for Auren's liking.
Strapped across his back was a massive greatsword, its edge still faintly thrumming with leftover mana. The sparring platform beneath him was scorched and cracked with runic backlash- clear evidence that his last opponent hadn't fared well.
"And here I thought today was going to be another boring practice session," he said, voice dripping with anticipation, eyes locked on Auren like a cat spotting a new toy.
Around the courtyard, whispers erupted like wildfire- low, hot, and hungry.
