The woman's low laugh was a like purr in the hollow silence.
She took another step, closing the distance until the heat radiating from her honeyed skin brushed against the chill of Lucien's blade.
Her violet eyes, luminous in the gloom, traced the sharp line of his jaw, the cold indifference in his gaze.
"Mmm… you're quite a looker, aren't you?" she murmured, her voice dripping like warm honey.
She tilted her head, the purple streak in her raven hair catching the dim light.
"Hmmmmmm… cat got your tongue, ehn?" Her full, berry-dark lips curved into a knowing smirk.
"Or are you simply… just captivated by the unmatched presence standing before you?" She drew the last word out, letting it hang in the thick air between them.
The grin widened just enough to hint at danger.
Lucien remained a statue. No flicker in his icy eyes. No twitch of muscle.
She sighed, a theatrical exhalation that made her bare shoulders rise and fall.
"So boring."
"But that's alright. Silent types tend to scream the loudest when properly mishandled."
Her gaze dropped pointedly to his chest area.
"Hmmmmmm, you sure do have the shape of a manly chest," she breathed, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper.
"Surely your wife would've enjoyed running her hands over this…"
She took another step closer.
Another.
Now within reach.
Slowly, deliberately, she raised her hand. Her fingers trailed through the air with hypnotic slowness as they descended towards the center of his chest. The motion was pure seduction, an invitation disguised as exploration.
Her fingertips made contact.
And froze.
Her smirk faltered, replaced by a moment of genuine confusion.
Her violet eyes widened a fraction.
The texture beneath her fingers wasn't muscle or armor.
It was flat.
Not flat like smooth skin.
Flat like a pane of glass.
Like her hand had just grazed a painting of a chest, not the real thing.
Her pupils dilated.
"What—?" The breathy confusion escaped her lips just as a hand emerged from the flatness.
It clamped around her wrist with bone-crushing force.
"Hrk!" Her gasp was cut short as the hand yanked.
Lucien's, but from within, dragging her with impossible force into the mirrored impression. Her body jerked forward, her balance broken in a heartbeat.
A perfect, unmoving Lucien still stood where he had before — an image. But it was no longer real. She had touched a mirror, and the real Lucien was behind it.
Inside it.
Her vision stuttered.
One moment, she was staring into the cold, impassive eyes of the Lucien before her, the flat, mirror-like surface.
The next instant, those same icy eyes were looking down at her, filled with lethal intent.
Suddenly she was beneath him, Lucien looming above with glacial precision. One knee dug into her lower ribs, pinning her. One hand clenched her wrist to the dirt. The other raised Whisper, its gleaming edge already descending toward her exposed throat.
She was on her back on the cold earth.
Lucien knelt over her, his left hand a vice around her captured wrist, pinning it beside her head. His right hand held Whisper, the silver blade already descending in a silent, deadly arc aimed precisely at her exposed throat. His expression was unchanged – cold, efficient, devoid of triumph or anger. Executioner's focus.
FWHIP
Her body moved before breath caught.
She arched, spine curving like a bowstring. With a burst of raw, unnatural flexibility, she snaked sideways, letting the descending blade carve nothing but a few strands of her hair.
THNK!
Whisper bit deep into the earth, throwing up a spray of soil and sparks.
She rolled, her lithe form twisting like silk in a storm. She rebounded off a crooked root, flipped backward in a single motion and landed in a crouch a full ten feet away, breath short, heart hammering.
Crack.
Her fingers clenched the dirt.
A moment of charged silence followed.
Then, she laughed.
Not loud.
A slow, dangerous grin spread across her face.
She rose smoothly, "Well…" she said, brushing a streak of dirt off her thigh and straightening to her full height again.
Her violet eyes narrowed slightly.
She flexed her wrist where he'd pinned.
"That," she purred, "is really not nice, you know."
She tilted her head, studying him with renewed intensity. "Trying to take a lady's head off? So uncivilized."
Lucien rose fluidly from his crouch, Whisper held loosely at his side, its point unwavering. He said nothing. His glacial gaze remained fixed on her, a silent challenge hanging in the charged air.
The woman sighed dramatically, placing a hand on her hip. The movement made the shadow-silk whisper.
"Fine, fine," she conceded, her grin widening, showing perfect white teeth. Her violet eyes sparked with dark amusement and something deeper – a thrill of the hunt.
"If you insist on skipping the pleasantries…"
She settled into a stance that was both languid and coiled, ready to spring. The air around her seemed to crackle with unseen energy.
"Let's play properly."
She exploded forward.
Not a step, a lunge.
Bare feet blurred over the arth, silent and deadly. Her right hand snapped out, nails aimed like daggers for Lucien's eyes.
A feint.
Her true strike was a scorpion-fast heel kick, low and brutal, aimed to shatter his kneecap.
Lucien moved like quicksilver.
His head tilted back a fraction, escaping as her talons whistled past. His leg shot out like a piston.
CRACK!
Bone clashed.
Her kick deflected mid-air, and she landed in a low crouch, foot flexing. "Fast," she muttered, voice edged in steel.
But Lucien was already advancing.
"Skyglass: Mirage Coalescence."
Light fractured. Three Luciens exploded forward. One drove high for her throat, another swept low for her legs, and the last slashed diagonally toward her collarbone. A kaleidoscope of steel and intention.
"Cute parlor trick!" she spat, flowing through the high-striking mirage. She stamped one bare foot into Borak's blood.
"Lurking Bloom!"
SCHLUCK!
The earth heaved.
Roots buckled. Soil sloshed. Lucien stumbled. "Ghk—" The true Lucien, displaced. The illusions shattered into mist.
SHWOOP!
She vanished into shadow.
SHINK!
Reemerged from his own.
"Tag," she whispered, palm pressing between his shoulder blades.
A chill lanced down Lucien's spine.
His momentum twisted.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
He retaliated. Whisper shrieked through the air. She danced inside the flurry. Every stroke redirected.
Elbow jerked by a vine: thrust missed.
Foot slipped on blood-veined shadow: his arc spun wide.
Her palm jabbed his sword wrist.
Knuckles clipped his temple and sent sparks skittering across his vision.
"You don't have rhythm! How are we gonna get along in bed." She cackled, flipping over his sweep.
"Let me conduct this symphony."
She landed gracefully on a twisted root.
FZZT!
"Veilglass: Hollow Mirage Step."
Lucien blurred. A shimmering replica froze in his place.
Her finger-jab pierced smoke.
"Tch—"
SHINK!
The real Lucien erupted from her own shadow. Whisper snapped for her spine.
"Ooooh! Clever boy!"
She twisted, silk parting.
RIIP!
A fine red line bloomed across her ribs.
She crouched, dipped a finger in the blood, tasted it. Her eyes gleamed.
"First blood. Exquisite."
Lucien pressed.
"Bloodglass: Glass Fang Lunge."
Whisper thinned, light bending into a needle-point.
TING!
She deflected with her bare wrist. Skin rippled unnaturally.
Her other hand jabbed. Wrist, again.
Another vine.
GRK! Lucien grunted, wrist faltering.
She used his stumble.
"Duskvine: Seed Point."
She slapped his shoulder. Her nails left a whisper-thin trail.
"Second thread," she cooed.
Lucien backstepped. Rolled. Reappeared with another technique.
"Skyglass: Fractal Bloom."
Five Luciens spiral-dashed.
Only one was real.
She blinked.
"Delicious."
She ran into them.
Arms whirling, she danced. One Lucien tried to slash. She twisted beneath, arm brushing his waist.
"Third thread."
Lucien froze.
"Duskvine Marionette!"
His elbow locked.
His knee twitched.
He swung — a second too early.
Parried himself.
CRACK!
His own Whisper cut through an illusion, then bounced off a root. Lucien skidded.
"Your limbs aren't yours anymore," she whispered.
He grit his teeth. Focused.
"Veilglass: Prism Snare!"
She looked at him—
FLASH!
Frozen.
0.3 seconds.
It was enough.
He lunged.
"Bloodglass: Raylace Spiral!"
Threads of molten glass spiraled around him.
She unfroze — barely.
But not fast enough.
SLASH! SLICE! SHSS!
Several cuts opened across her hips and thigh. Her breath hitched. She rolled away, smiling.
"Mmmm... I felt that."
Lucien exhaled, sweat at his temple.
"You're not a dancer, aren't you." she whispered, circling.
He adjusted Whisper.
She tapped the air.
"I am the vine that climbs memory."
"Accelerate."
Her body snapped forward. One elbow clipped Lucien's ribs
THUMP!
The next buried in his jaw.
He staggered.
CLANG!
Another vine. Leg trapped.
He dropped.
She was already flipping above.
"Let me finish this composition."
Whisper slashed from the ground. A desperate, precise riposte.
TSSK!
She bent. Spine curved unnaturally.
Whisper grazed her shoulder.
She spun, landing lightly again. Blood trickled.
She touched it.
Tasted it.
"Mmmm. You really are a shard of something beautiful."
Lucien rose. Slower now. Breathing heavier. Cuts lined his arms. Bruises bloomed beneath his armor.
But his eyes — sharp. Focused.
She raised two fingers. Curled them. Inviting.
"Come now, Mirror-Man. Let's shatter properly."