The morning light was her sole companion as Tizmilly swung her sword at the yard of the Roost family house. She woke up before dawn as well today. Not because of pain, but because she wanted to feel the morning air.
It was cold, but not if you moved constantly. For normal people, her movement might as well just shadows. Too fast to see. The result of her continuous practice. For her, it was too slow. Too slow if compared to the speed and height she had reached while she was fighting Jahreon and the Demon he called before.
The Waveblade in her hands only glowed faintly, not as bright as before. Not yet.
Around her, slowly, the snow melted. They became drops of water that followed her movement.
A second, they were as transparent as glass. The next second, they became as red as her long hair. Then they became ice petals of rose.
Her focus was at its peak.
