"STOP."
The word rang through the courtyard like a divine decree.And the world obeyed.
Avin's sword froze mid-arc, locked in place just before it could finish its deadly journey. It wasn't that he'd stopped himself—his reflexes, sharp as they were, could never have halted such a strike. The weapon had simply listened to the voice. The motion died where it stood, as if every particle of steel recognized its mistress.
The recoil of his own halted momentum shuddered back through his arms, a violent tremor that made him wince. His wrists ached, the shock of stopped force rattling up to his shoulders. The blade rested still against the guard's neck, pressing only deep enough for blood to pool along its edge and trail down like a thin crimson ribbon.
Avin exhaled slowly and turned his head toward the source of the command.
