The room was silent for a fraction of a second, the only sound the faint crackling of fire from the destruction Malvoria had left in her wake.
Then, with the slow, measured grace of a predator, Malvoria stepped forward, her eyes locked onto the woman standing before Elysia.
The smirk on the rebel's face didn't falter. If anything, it grew.
"Oh?" The woman tilted her head, voice laced with mock amusement. "You look angry."
Malvoria didn't answer. She didn't need to answer.
The moment she moved, the air shifted.
One second, the woman was standing there, arrogance dripping from every inch of her posture—the next, Malvoria had closed the space between them, her claws slicing through the air like a blade. The rebel barely dodged, jerking back at the last possible moment. The force of Malvoria's strike shattered the stone pillar behind her, sending chunks of debris clattering to the floor.
