The wind was restless today, shifting in strange currents that carried more than the smell of frost. Somewhere ahead, the air shimmered—not with heat, but with movement too fast for the eye to follow.
Kael slowed. The Ruyi Jingu Bang stayed in his grip, angled low, ready.
Then the shimmer resolved into feathers—golden and black, swirling in a controlled spiral. They cut through the air like blades, snow hissing where they passed. At the center of it all stood a woman, her stance poised, her arms outstretched. In each hand, a curved blade spun so fast they blurred into rings of light.
Sena.
Her hood was down despite the cold, revealing dark, wind-tossed hair and eyes the color of desert stone. Sun-burnished skin contrasted sharply with the pale wasteland, and even standing still, she looked like someone born in motion.
The chakram slowed, revealing intricate carvings along their edges—wings, scales, and the Eye of Ma'at etched in gold. The air around them thrummed faintly, not with heat, but with judgment.
"Kael," she said, her voice carrying over the wind, smooth and certain. "You're late."
"I didn't know we set a time."
Her mouth curved—not quite a smile, but something sharper. "You never do."
She stepped forward, the Feather of Ma'at vanishing in a whirl of light before reappearing on her back, crossed like twin halos.
"What's wrong?" she asked, studying his face. "You only look like that when you've found something worth killing."
"Not something," Kael said. "Someone."
Sena's gaze flicked toward the road ahead, where faint tracks marred the snow. Without another word, she moved to stand beside him, shoulders squared toward whatever lay beyond the white horizon.
The wind shifted again, carrying the far-off sound of shouting. Sena's fingers brushed the chakram handles, her expression calm—almost serene.
Kael tightened his grip on the Ruyi Jingu Bang. Together, they stepped forward.