Hollow Eclipse drops in the middle of it—pure power bundled tight into a single downstroke. Except he doesn't try to crush me with it; he ties it to the Violet Mist pattern and turns the blow into a storm of heavy petals that land with weight instead of cuts. They try to pin me. Clever. I walk out of it and admire the idea even as I refuse it.
He breathes once—long, even—and the Grey rises again.
More. Mid Radiant has given him more wood for the fire and a better chimney. He can push it without choking on smoke. The lair feels it. The crystal ribs of my home brighten and then hold. They are strong. He will not crack them today.
He lifts Valeria high. The Crown brightens. The ring forms.
World's Edge.
This time it is not loud. It is clean. The thin Grey circle opens around us and says a small thing: Inside this line, it counts. He brings it down like a quiet verdict.
