Chapter Two: Fire Beneath the Split (Part Three)
Date: May 22, Year 204 PCR (Maelis 22)
Location: Trial Arena – Harmonic Lyceum
Time: Midday
Vessa rose.
Not cleanly. Not without effort.
Her glyph markings pulsed irregularly now—like a heartbeat stumbling through a skipped rhythm.
Selka didn't advance. She stood in profile, one shoulder angled, watching the flicker of Vessa's breath like it was part of the terrain. Her hands stayed low. Open. Like her body had no interest in being a weapon. It simply was one.
"No false restraint," Vessa muttered. "You've been holding back. Show me something real."
Selka tilted her head.
Then stepped forward once.
It wasn't a strike. It wasn't even aggressive.
But Vessa reacted—glyphlight flaring around her neck, pulse threads igniting like sparks skipping off steel.
"VEILMARK ART — PRESSUREFOLD SPIKE: Hollowfall Thrust!"
A tri-folded glyph fractured behind her as she launched. Her boots left the ground—pure forward momentum—air shearing behind her blade.
Selka's stance didn't change.
But her shadow moved.
Not the light behind her. Her shadow. It stepped left, faster than the human eye, curving wide like a ribbon cast in oil.
When Vessa's strike landed—
Selka wasn't there.
Not because she'd dodged. But because her position had never been what it seemed.
The arena floor cracked. Vessa stumbled, grip lurching forward—
And Selka was already behind her.
"VEILMARK ART — THREADGLIDE SHIFT: Petal Drift Fade."
Vessa spun, swinging wide.
Selka caught the blade's arc on her palm. Not blocking—catching.
The pulse behind it hissed against her skin but didn't burn. Her glyph shimmered once—barely.
Then she pressed two fingers to Vessa's blade.
And whispered.
"You're still too loud."
The blade vibrated. Stalled. Glyphwork dimmed like a sigh leaving steel.
Vessa leapt back, shaking her head, breath now loud in her own ears.
"How are you doing that—what kind of Veilmark is that?!"
Selka's voice came quiet, even.
"Mine doesn't disrupt the body. It disrupts the sound of thought."
Vessa's pupils contracted.
"Your glyph suppresses—"
"Resonance," Selka finished. "Pulse tracking. Memory recovery. Even instinct."
She didn't smile when she said it.
She looked tired.
"You've been fighting with certainty.
I've been fighting with silence."
Vessa's glyphs pulsed again. This time harder. Sharper.
She planted her feet and raised both hands—drawing them together in a spiral.
"Fine."
"VEILMARK ART — TIDEBREAK CASCADE: Full Fracture Bloom!"
Glyphs flared across the entire right quadrant of the arena.
Not just around her.
Under her.
A ripple of compressed glyph rings exploded outward—each one a scythe of condensed water pressure layered with pulse resonance. They tore up stone. Shattered the outer walls. The crowd recoiled.
Selka didn't move.
She closed her eyes.
And her own glyph activated beneath her collarbone—not wide. Not loud.
Just precise.
A single line of etched silver trailing her shoulder to her wrist, singing nothing at all.
"VEILMARK ART — FORMFOLD FIELD: Mute Spiral Guard."
The rings hit her—
And folded.
Each impact curved in reverse, bending around her body like a current rerouted by stillness.
Vessa's eyes widened as the bloom collapsed.
Selka took one step forward.
"You fight like a storm."
"I was raised in silence."