The top lane was the narrowest of the three, a corridor of stone flanked by jagged pillars. On one side, the lightning field arced between blackened spires, filling the air with the taste of ozone. On the other, just before Team Five's first control point, a patch of ground pulsed with unstable gravity. Loose pebbles drifted inches off the stone, bobbing like corks in water.
The first control point sat at the lane's midpoint, a raised stone dais with a neutral crystal glowing white at its center, waiting.
Lysandra walked toward it alone. Her iron club rested on her shoulder. The switch was fully active now. The trembling had stopped. Her shoulders were square. Her chin was up. Her eyes were cold and flat. She wasn't the shy girl who pressed herself against tunnel walls.
She was also smiling. Just a little. Just at the corners of her mouth. The kind of smile that didn't belong on someone walking into a fight. The kind of smile that made people uncomfortable.
