It would be poetic to say that time slowed, that the first spark of our battle burned so brightly the world itself paused to watch. But this wasn't poetry this was the sound of reality being torn in half by two very stubborn women with deep-rooted emotional problems, an entire history of mutual loathing, and more magic than most gods would trust themselves with.
Also, there was quite a lot of shouting.
The room shook as Azael unleashed her opening move: a flurry of serrated shadow-blades that fanned through the air in a pattern both beautiful and patently unfair. Each one hissed as it sliced through the air, and for a split second I wondered if she practiced in front of a mirror just to see which angles looked the most intimidating.
I grinned. It was time to remind her she wasn't the only one with a flair for dramatics.
