The golden radiance still pulsed around me, a warm cocoon that seemed to bend the grey northern light around its edges. I stood in the center of the ring, my chest heaving, and every bruise and cut was screaming for attention. But beneath the pain, the ember blazed—steady now, controlled, responsive to my will in ways it had never been before.
Runa circled me, her eyes narrowed, her body coiled with readiness. She had seen the light, felt its power, and witnessed its ability to redirect her attacks. But she was northern, and northerners did not yield. She was calculating, adjusting, and finding a new approach.
I watched her move, and for the first time, I understood what Selene's memories had been trying to teach me. Combat was not about strength alone. It was about patience, about reading your opponent, about waiting for the moment when their commitment exceeded their control.
