The arena shimmered under a night sky where the stars seemed to blaze brighter just to witness that encounter. There was no wind, only the pulse of growing energy in the field.
At the arena's center, two figures faced each other.
On one side stood Seraphina — her presence was orderly, almost sacred. Around her, lines of pure light drew geometric shapes in the air as if trying to impose logic on the growing chaos. Each radiant symbol she created seemed born from the very concept of symmetry: concentric circles, eternal triangles, pulsing mandalas.
Across from her, Paty smiled with fiery eyes. Her energy vibrated like a song out of rhythm, each note threatening to shatter the melody. Her steps left trails of unstable colored energy that flickered and evaporated like ink spilled on a scorching surface. Her aura was beautiful, yes — but like shattered stained glass reflecting sunset.
