Lyra struck first—her water blades arcing through the frigid air with lethal precision. Selene pivoted, snow churning beneath her boots as she twisted away from the attack, her own liquid weapons flowing like living extensions of her arms.
"Predictable opening," Selene taunted, countering with a sweeping slash that sent ice crystals spiraling toward Lyra's face.
Lyra ducked, the ice shards slicing through several strands of her hair. She rolled leftward, simultaneously drawing moisture from the snow to form razor-sharp daggers that shot toward Selene's exposed flank.
Selene's hand snapped out, her fingers splayed wide. The ice daggers slowed mid-flight, their molecular structure being rewritten as she exerted her will. They liquified, then reversed direction.
"Shit," Lyra hissed, hastily erecting a crystalline shield of compressed water. The redirected projectiles crashed against it, spider-webbing the surface with fractures.
