The arena shimmered into form beneath the Archivist's spell, concentric rings of glyph-marked stone rising from the floor like the slow surfacing of a memory long buried.
Blue flames lined the edges, flickering against the dusty air. Magic pulsed through the ground with each heartbeat, setting the stage for something ancient and sacred.
Miles stepped into the circle, and Sarissa mirrored him, her boots barely making a sound as she moved. Her eyes, however, were anything but quiet.
They burned like wildfire.
She summoned her sword, but it was different from the one she was using before. It had runes etched into its blade, a bluish ghostly glow emanating from it.
"So, that's how it's going to be…?" Miles raised an eyebrow, recognizing the [Cheshire's Gleam] immediately, but neither Sarissa nor Cheshire answered his question as she assumed an offensive stance.
The Archivist watched them from the balcony as she waited for Mara and Diego to arrive by her side.
