"But you're slowing down." She stepped toward him. "I can see it. Your output is dropping with every exchange, yet you're still standing here fighting me instead of running." Another step. "Why? You should be running. Every instinct you have should be telling you to run. So why aren't you? Black Fang is over there. Why don't you run to her? Hide behind her."
Quinlan's hands moved and fire answered, but the flame was thinner than the first volley. He layered wind behind it to compensate, accelerating the firestream into a lance that screamed toward her chest, and followed it with a wall of ice that erupted from the ground behind her, cutting off her retreat path.
Morgana walked through the fire lance.
Her mana field absorbed it. The flames parted around her body and the residual heat that made it through singed the edges of her robes without touching her skin. She didn't slow down.
