The whistle echoed again, sharp and clear.
The ball glowed faintly gold as it floated back to center field.
I crouched slightly, mana flowing through my legs.
The turf trembled under my feet.
Across the field, the Seraphim captain, Eric, stood calm, his six faint ethereal wings spread behind him like transparent fire.
The crowd chanted his name, over and over.
"ERIC! ERIC! ERIC!"
I could hear their excitement, their faith in him, their certainty that this was already over.
"Ball in!" the referee called out.
A soft pulse of light, and the ball snapped forward, so fast that it looked like it teleported between Eric's feet.
Dammit!
I can't believe that I lost the ball like that!
He started his advance immediately, with no hesitation. His steps were light, precise, like a dancer on the wind.
The ball moved as if tied to his shoes by an invisible thread.
Varric went in for a block, lowering his shoulder.
"Got him!" he shouted.
