Lysandra did not flinch.
Her long, pale blade was already there, angled just enough to meet the incoming force head-on, its surface flooded with controlled mana that burned clean and steady. The impact came a heartbeat later.
Power collided.
The shockwave tore outward through the corridor, sharp and compressed, rattling the tall windows and sending a fine cascade of frost sliding down the stone. The floor vibrated underfoot, the air splitting with a sound like metal screaming against metal. Rivena was driven back two full steps, boots scraping hard as she caught herself, her posture breaking for the first time since the clash began.
The castle endured it without complaint.
Beyond the walls, the noise of the gathering never faltered. Laughter, voices, clinking glasses. Whatever had just happened here was too contained, too precise, to reach the celebration on the other side.
Lysandra stood unmoved at the center of it all, sword still raised, stance flawless.
