IRIS’ P.O.V.
The black fire swallowed the sky as it surged toward me.
I braced, raising my arms, silver magic coiling up from my chest. The two forces collided in a burst of light so violent it threw me across the ground. My body scraped against the strange not-solid floor, skin tearing, pain flaring sharp down my arms. My ears rang. My ribs felt cracked.
Illyra lowered her hand slowly, her expression carved from ice. “You’re fragile. Did you think calling on me would suddenly make you a warrior?”
I forced myself to my knees, spitting blood into the dirt. “Fragile doesn’t bleed and get back up.”
Her smile was cruel. “No. Fragile dies. You just haven’t realized it yet.”
She came at me again. A blur of black steel, shadow and light woven together. I threw up a shield, raw magic sparkin
