Ming's knives paused mid-air.
She tried to move her weapons but her hands were still, unable to move them at all.
It was a terrifying, localized paralysis, a sensation as if the very air around her blades had turned to stone. They were simply unable to move.
Her mind raced, her body straining, but the ashen glow in Kale's eyes held her fast.
The glow in Kale's eyes died down and Ming was able to move again.
The release was so sudden she stumbled forward a half step, her offensive posture broken.
Kale, as ever, was ruthlessly efficient. He did not press a killing blow, but quickly swung his blade in a low, sweeping arc aimed at her legs.
It was a clean, tactical move designed to unbalance her, not to injure. Ming, her rhythm shattered, had to jump back to avoid it, conceding the ground she had just gained.
Seeing Ming's forced retreat, Ian acted.
