Jolthar stood at the other end of the meadow, his hand resting on the hilt of Horgath, the Sword of Chaosbane. The weapon's dark metal seemed to drink in the ambient light, its edge gleaming with an inner fire that spoke of powers barely contained.
The aura that surrounded him—crackling with barely visible energy—marked him as something far beyond ordinary humanity.
After deciding on the duel between Jolthar and Vareth, they changed the place of their spar, and it was placed just beyond the village, a vast and spacious meadow.
The mountain peak had already been destroyed, so they had to change places.
Across from him, Vareth the Starweaver embodied the pinnacle of Ael'koryna martial perfection. Tall and graceful as a silver birch, his movements carried the graceful precision of one who had spent centuries perfecting the art of combat. His blade, Astralend, caught and held the meadow's mystical light.
