The skies are crying heavily. Rain pelts my form, shredding through my clothes like ice needles to my skin. My wings, white and pure, are burning from the efforts of both staying aloft and flapping in this heavy storm. Each breath drawn is a mixture of fire and ice, and my eyes are blurring from water seeping between my eyelids.
But I must continue onward. There, in the darkness and in the center of the storm, is my foe. My mortal enemy. Savius stays aloft in a hole in the clouds, the moon making the perfect backdrop for his sillouette. Heavy black robes with red edges, long black hair and wings, he resembles the perfect embodiment of pure evil.
I dive downward, using it to shield my eyes against this storm before rising inside the clear and rain-free circle that surrounds him. My short, golden blade held tightly as I rise upwards to strike him. He catches my blade in a defensive downward swipe, knocking me back downwards.
I bend and weave a tight curve before routing myself back upwards. I stay clear of both him and the edge of the clearing, leveling myself to his altitude. We both floated there, wings furling and beating a steady pattern to keep us both in the air as we stared each other down. This was a fight we have both been after for the longest time, several decades in the making. This was going to be bloody.
By Richard P.