Malvoria didn't remember hitting Lucindra.
Her body had moved before her mind caught up—one moment she was sprinting down the corridor toward the flickering sounds of battle, the next she was flying across the ruined gallery and crashing into the woman who dared to hurt her sister.
The impact cracked the floor.
Lucindra went down hard, crimson robes tearing as she rolled, dust and ash billowing around her.
Malvoria landed in a low crouch, sword in hand, flames licking across her knuckles.
She straightened slowly, eyes locked on the figure groaning in the debris.
Lucindra's form was crumpled against the wall, one hand gripping her ribs, eyes wide with disbelief.
"You look surprised," Malvoria said coldly. "Didn't expect me to arrive in time?"
Lucindra stood, slower now. Her lip was bleeding. Her hair, always perfectly coiled, hung loose and wild.
"I heard the stories," she said, voice rough. "But seeing you in person… You've grown into something monstrous."
