The impact sent Irene skidding backward across the clearing.
She didn't let herself fall.
Her hand drove into the ground, tearing through the soft dirt, stopping the momentum before she could be thrown any farther. Steam hissed from where her palm met the earth, flames dancing across her fingers even as she steadied herself.
Elara's chest heaved. That attack drained her. Ten percent of her reserves, compressed into a single blow.
It should have been enough to at least knock her down for a few seconds.
But Irene stood.
A red bruise spread across the center of her stomach, darkening even through the scorched fabric. Her breathing came shallow, uneven. Blood trickled down the corner of her mouth.
And then her silver hair fell forward, hiding her eyes.
Something changed.
Elara felt it instantly.
Something shifted. Pressure started to build around Irene, like standing next to a volcano about to erupt.
Then the flames emerged.
They were not the usual Ashbourne red-gold.
