Clara raised her hand.
Sayo stepped beside her.
They didn't speak.
And neither did we.
The pale field shivered.
Then—impact.
Sayo charged Erich. Clara came for me.
The field lit in two tones—Sayo's deep shadow, Clara's pulsing pink. I blinked forward, intercepting Clara mid-lunge. My blade clashed against her pulse—a thud, not a crack. I shifted low, not striking, but deflecting. She moved with eerie precision, like she had practiced this fight.
Erich met Sayo head-on. Their blades screamed—forged from shadows, drawn from void. She twisted under his second swing, her knee slammed into his chest, and he blinked back just before her blade could reach his throat.
I spun, parried Clara's follow-through. She fired a pulse close-range. I blinked sideways. The flare grazed my arm. Heat ripped through my sleeve.
Clara followed. No words. Just velocity. Her hands glowed like explosions waiting to happen.
She fired again.
I blocked the blast, threadlight flaring against impact. She closed the distance, and our blades rang together—again, again. I circled her, careful, reactive. Clara struck in loops. Wide arcs. Designed to suppress, not kill.
Erich blinked back into view, blade trailing dust.
Sayo matched him step for step.
They moved with brutal rhythm—Sayo leading, Erich adapting. He feinted, redirected her strike with the flat of his weapon, then ducked low as her shadow hissed across the ground, trying to catch his feet.
I lost sight of them.
Clara spun and fired another pulse. I caught it on my blade, but the force still lifted me. I skidded across the pale stone, boots carving lines.
We reset. All of us.
Again.
The field bent with movement.
Erich blinked behind Sayo—caught her blade with his, locked it high, and kicked at her chest. She turned mid-clash, grabbed his ankle, and flung him through the air.
He vanished mid-flight, reappearing behind her.
She didn't flinch. Her blade spun around, cut through his shoulder—shallow but burning. He dropped to a knee.
Clara pressed again. She came at me like a storm. I blocked. Sidestepped. Blinked over her shoulder. Swung my blade down—not hard. Just enough to shift her stance.
She caught it. Hand to metal.
She pulsed.
My chest lit up.
I flew.
Again, we reset.
Minutes passed. Or seconds. Time felt meaningless.
I couldn't tell how long we fought.
But we never landed true blows. Only deflections. Only disarms.
We weren't fighting to win.
Just to last.
***
Clara's eyes glowed brighter.
Sayo's blade now dripped shadow with every swing.
We were losing ground.
Then Clara raised both hands.
A large pulse built—slow, glowing.
She overextended.
Erich saw it.
He blinked forward, slid behind her, and tapped his blade to her hip.
It wasn't deep.
But it mattered.
She gasped.
A ripple of uncertainty crossed her face.
I blinked behind her.
Thread to thread.
My hand touched her back.
Not skin. Memory.
I felt the weight in her thread—the rot, the shadow, the silence. But beneath it—still breathing—was Clara.
I reached through it. Not forcefully. Gently.
I reminded her of everything I had.
Moments she'd forgotten. Locked away by Sayo's shadow.
Her breath caught.
Her pulse changed.
Her thread flared pink.
Her arms dropped.
Sayo screamed.
A sound that didn't come from her throat, but from something raw—ancient, a place beneath her skin. It tore through the field like a faultline cracking open. The air curdled. The ground winced. It was the kind of scream that sank into marrow and stayed there, long after the silence returned.
Shadow erupted–concussive, tidal.
Erich vanished into it.
Sayo appeared between us.
Her eyes weren't human.
She swung.
Fast—too fast.
By the time I rewound, her cut had reached my ribcage.
I blocked it this time.
But her swing was heavy—too heavy.
It knocked the blade from my hands.
I tumbled. Hit the ground.
I tried to rise. Couldn't
When I opened my eyes.
Clara was alone.
Sayo stood behind her.
Erich wasn't moving.
And I—was too far.
The threads tethered above us.
Clara turned. Her eyes dim, but alive.
"Sayo…"
Sayo's blade trembled.
But it still swung.
It didn't cut.
It split the plane.
Threadlight burst from Clara's back, bright—like a dying star.
It wasn't a flash.
It was a flood.
It consumed the pale field. The ground ruptured beneath her. The sky inverted. Shadows screamed and vanished.
I shielded my eyes.
A whisper of breath, and then—
Silence.
When I looked—
She had collapsed.
Thread tethered.
Flickering.
Fading.