Venna strikes first. Her blade cuts through air where my throat was a heartbeat before. I twist away on pure instinct, feeling steel whisper past my skin.

She follows with a savage downward slash. I catch it on my blade—the impact shudders through my arms, nearly buckling my knees. Before I can recover, she spins and drives her elbow into my ribs.

Pain explodes through my side. I stumble backward, gasping, tasting copper.

“Too slow, little stray.” Venna advances with predator grace. “Your tournament tricks won’t save you against a real warrior.”

I circle away, buying precious seconds to breathe. She’s faster than anyone I faced in the trials. Every movement flows like water—economical, deadly, perfected through years of training.

“She’s testing you,” Aspis whispers urgently. “Looking for weaknesses. Don’t give her any.”

Venna lunges again. I parry desperately—once, twice, three times. Each clash drives me backward. My arms scream with effort. Her technique is flawless, her strength overwhelming.

“I watched your tournament fights,” she says, pressing relentlessly. “Sloppy footwork. Overextended lunges. You survived on luck and strange tricks.”

“Luck got me this far,” I manage between ragged breaths. “How far has your perfect technique gotten you?”

Her eyes narrow. She feints left, then drives her blade toward my heart with killing speed. I throw myself sideways—too slow. Steel bites my shoulder, drawing a hot line of blood.

The crowd gasps. I clamp down on the cry building in my throat.

“First blood,” Venna announces coldly. “Much more to come.”

“Reach for me,” Aspis urges. “Let our connection strengthen you.”

I pull desperately on our bond. Power floods through me like liquid moonlight, dulling the shoulder pain, sharpening my senses. Light gathers at my fingertips—pale silver, strange and beautiful.

Venna’s confident stride falters. “That light again. What sorcery is this, houseless?”

“No sorcery. Just something you never expected from someone like me.”

“The color is wrong,” someone in the crowd murmurs. “Bond-light is gold or red. What makes hers silver like that?”

“Impossible,” another whispers. “Unless—no, that’s just a legend.”

I don’t have time to wonder what they mean. Venna attacks with renewed fury, blade singing through torchlight. But now I can track her movements—anticipate where she’ll strike before she commits.

I catch her blade on mine and shove. She staggers back a single step, surprise flickering across her features.

“Lucky,” she snarls.

“Prove it.”

She comes at me again—a whirlwind of steel and rage. I block the first strike. Deflect the second. The third catches my forearm, drawing another line of blood. But I’m still standing. Still fighting.

I thrust my palm forward, releasing blinding luminescence directly into her face. Venna staggers backward with a curse, eyes streaming.

Now.

I drive forward before she can recover. My blade slashes across her thigh—a deep cut that sprays crimson across the stones. She twists away with a howl of pain, but I’m already following—pressing every advantage.

Our blades crash together. Once. Twice. She blocks my strikes desperately now, all grace abandoned. Blood runs down her leg, pooling beneath her boots. Her movements slow.

“What are you?” she demands, circling like a wounded predator. “No unbonded warrior moves like this!”

“Maybe I’m exactly what you feared from the beginning.” I press forward. “Someone worthy of standing among you.”

“Liar!”

She lunges with killing intent, blade aimed at my heart. Time stretches impossibly. I see every detail—her extended arm, her exposed flank, the desperate fury in her eyes.

Moonlight coils around my forearm like living armor. Her blade deflects harmlessly against the silver glow. I spin inside her guard, driving my elbow into her wounded thigh.

Venna screams. Her leg buckles. She crashes to one knee.

I kick the blade from her hand. It clatters across stone, impossibly loud in the sudden silence.

Before she can rise, I’m behind her. My blade presses against her throat. Silver light dances along the steel—a promise of violence barely contained.

“Yield,” I command quietly.

“You did it,” Aspis breathes, exhaustion threading through our bond. “We did it together.”

“Worth every moment. You’re alive. That’s what matters.”

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