A blinding golden streak cleaved through the morning clouds above Falcon Ridge, descending with the concussive scream of a falling star.
Elder Mane’s hand was less than three inches from Edric’s skull, the swirling sphere of compressed crimson aura primed to pulverize the young spearman into the granite bridge, when the sky answered.
Clang!
The golden sword intercepted the descending palm strike dead center. The weapon possessed the clean, razor-sharp geometry of forged celestial metal, and the moment Mane’s crimson aura made contact with the golden flat, the kinetic impact detonated like an exploding gunpowder magazine.
A spherical shockwave of golden and scarlet light ripped outward across the chasm, blasting loose stones from the parapets and tearing the banners of the disciplinary
