I cast my hand out, fingers pointed, in their direction, but they were agile, and my magick splintered the side of the tree they ducked behind.
“You’ve lost your touch,” he called.
My battle stance slackened and my magick cooled.
“Drystan?” I called out, mildly irritated.
“Don’t stop,” he said, appearing from his cover with a sword in hand. He twisted his wrist, advancing with it braced.
“What are you doing?” I bit out.
He shrugged, then attacked with no warning.
I gasped at the vertical swipe of his sword I twisted to avoid, then clumsily pulled my own weapon free. Our blades clashed, not giving me pause to calculate as he seized the advantage of my outrage.
“If you wanted to kill me you could have taken a dagger with Nyte’s blood to my chest already,” I said through gritted teeth.
My returning memories weren’t so clear. On the contrary, they often confused and frustrated me wildly when they were like dreams: flashes of people and things and events that didn’t fully feel real. I recalled Drystan was no fighter in the past, however, and that had severely changed over the centuries I was gone.
“Consider this a reprimand for your stupidity,” he snapped back, continuing his unrelenting advance.
“You picked up some skills over the years.”
“You’ve certainly lost some.”
I was panting already. I really needed to train harder, and that’s where my frustration came from: knowing how adept at combat I’d been in the past, and yet in this life I was barely pushing past novice against someone with real fighting skill. I’d used magick for efficiency against most people I’d fought so far, or I’d faced common folk and rogue vampires, whose skills in weaponry were hardly a challenge.
My coordination faltered when my ankle caught on a branch hidden by the snow. Falling onto my back, I hissed at the tip of Drystan’s blade over my chest.
He smirked down at me. The amusement grated on my rising temper.
“Wanted to prove you could best me?” I grunted.
“I wanted to gauge how long you might last in your reckless endeavor,” he said, removing the threat and popping the sword between his hands against the ground. “I’d give you less than a day beyond the city wall before you got yourself captured.”
“Your faith in me is charming.” I pushed up before the cold could seep through my leathers.
“Did you really think you could take on the task of retrieving Eltanin alone?” His ire creased deeply on his brow.
“It’ll be easier for one person to get inside the wall and remain hidden. I planned to be back in a few days.”
Drystan mocked me with a scoff.
“I can’t decide if your arrogance is delusional or faintly admirable.” His expression turned harsh. “There’s no second chance for you this time. If you die, this world dies with you, either by Auster’s corruption or Nyte’s vengeance.”
“I am Lightsdeath now; it wasyourplan to make me that, and I’ve stopped underestimating myself, so I don’t need you to start.”
We matched disagreeing stares while our breaths frosted the air between us.
“I know you, Astraea. You would have gone into that city and lost focus of everything the moment you had Auster in your sights.”
“I know what I need to do, and you’re only slowing me down.”
I tried to brush past him, but I detected the shift of his arm in time to raise my sword to meet his. The heat of our glares through crossed blades was enough to dull the sharp chill of the night.
We were moving again and I led the attack this time. I honed in on him like I would with an enemy, seeing him as nothing but a barrier stopping me from getting to Eltanin and having Nyte back. If he wouldn’t back down, neither would I.
My steps became a dance awakening from a distant place in my mind. It was then I realized that despite my vicious efforts, forcing his faltering offense through the trees, I would never harm him. There was a tear in my soul for what was broken between us, and as Drystan stepped around a tree, my next horizontal swipe lodged my blade into the timber.
