SAGE
Darius was not happy with my joke, with my nickname for him.
He growled like the animal he was—a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the ground—and lunged.
We clashed.
Fire burst from my hands; his claws met them with strength and speed that shouldn't belong to any normal shifter. But then, he wasn't a shifter.
Sparks rained as if we were forging war itself. He shifted mid-air, turning half-mist, my flames sliding through him harmlessly.
"Cheap trick!" I shouted, leaping back, and then I, too, dissolved—my body turning translucent, half-light, half-air. It wasn't something I'd mastered; it was instinct, or perhaps El.
You're getting sloppy, El teased.
"Shut up," I hissed aloud, the memory of how it has always been between us wrapping me up again. The sound was drowned by the crash of our next collision.
