The sounds gradually faded, as if silence itself decided to bow before the approaching footsteps. Claire did not walk as one about to enter a battle, but rather as though she were strolling down a routine corridor in an old palace. Calm, cold, her gaze pale. Nothing in her face suggested that she was aware of the many eyes fixed upon her, nor those waiting for her fall or triumph.
On the other side, her opponent stood. A tall young man named Sivan. His eyes darted between the crowd and Claire, as if searching for something to bolster his ego. He swung two curved swords, their black metal like ink, slicing through the air with theatrical movements.
The crowd laughed when Sivan twirled his swords like spinning wheels, and one of them yelled, "Cut her in half before she blinks!"
