"Ready to be put down like the mutt you are, Nightshade?" Elara's voice carried across the arena, laced with ice and venom. "Or are you still hoping your peasant husband will come save you?"
Luna's grin was all teeth. "Keep talking, princess. Your voice is the only thing colder than your magic."
They moved at the same moment.
Luna exploded forward in a low, quadrupedal sprint, claws gouging deep furrows into the reinforced stone with every stride. Each impact left a spider-web crater the size of a dinner plate. The crowd gasped as the platform trembled.
Elara didn't even flinch. She flicked two fingers and a razor-sharp barrage of ice needles — thirty of them — screamed toward Luna in a perfect fan pattern, each one humming with compressed mana.
Luna twisted mid-stride, body contorting like a wolf dodging arrows. Most needles shattered against the stone behind her, but three grazed her shoulder. Frostbite bloomed instantly on her skin.
