Second Light

No one replied, no one crossed that barrier.

"Still, before I kill her, shouldn't we see if she is strong? You are kynenn right? What are your powers?" Grant began speaking directly to Elara. "I mean there's no point hiding them now, don't you wanna find whoever that boy is?"

Every extra word made Elara's consciousness weaker. No planning went behind her movements, only emotion. 

Her fists trembled from the white-hot insult of their calm. The way they watched her like they were babysitting a temper tantrum.

She unbuttoned her coat—slow, deliberate—and let it fall to the floor like a gauntlet.

"You think you're untouchable," she said, voice razor-thin. "All throne and posture. All curated menace. But let me explain something."

She took one step forward. Then another. Her heel echoed too loud in the silence, but she didn't care.

"I have no weapon. No magic. No leverage. Just spite. Pure. Boiling. Spite."

I bet he ran it.

She lunged. A blur of movement aimed straight at the largest man in the room. He was tall—too tall—broad and solid, built like he belonged to another era. His face hit her in flashes: sharp angles, a crooked nose, one eye slightly off-center. Ugly in part and handsome in the others.

He stood there in a slate blazer, pale shirt open at the collar, hardly paying her any real attention.

Elara stepped over the center table, scooping her hand and grabbing the laptop that had been placed in front of an even wider member of Celaris. 

Elara pivoted and kicked toward him, missing, then swinging a fist, a lazy hook. 

Callum grabbed her wrist out of the air in an effort to restrain her, unwilling to stoop to the level of fighting a 'powerless kynenn'.

Elara had no such pride. 

"AGHHHHHHHH" she screamed at the top of her lungs, evidently feral, reeling her back as if she'd been possessed.

She headbutted Callum. Full force. Skull to nose.

His grip faltered.

The laptop in her other hand—gleaming, fragile, sacred—crashed into the side of Callum's head with a sickening, electric crack. Semi-glass and metal bent inward.

Callum's face changed slightly. But the temperature in the room rose at a violent speed.

Literally.

Elara's wrist began to burn, as Callum imprinted his emotion through his palm. 

She ripped her limb from his, unsure what she could do in her current situation. But Callum wasn't done.

"You insignificant little brat" Callum spat as he stomped dead at her chest, thrusting Elara back.

Elara rolled backward and returned to her feet. She dashed back.

"GIVE HIM BACK!" Elara had yet to stop screaming.

She drew back her fist like an archer pulling a bowstring, every muscle aligned for the kill. Elara was no longer throwing a punch—she was hunting. Her emotions seemed to shadow human limits. And when she released—aimed square and true—like a broadhead through a deer's heart—

Elara's wrist was pierced with a second rung of pain. It recoiled and exploded in place.

What?

Elara's breath rattled. The room stank of polish, leather, and smoke—old power pressed into every edge. Behind Callum, laughter echoed from the ring of shadows, faces half-lit by yellow glass overhead.

She barely registered the words at first.

"A powerless Kynenn? I'm supposed to believe you survived the Foundation attacks, came here for vengeance, and have nothing?"

The conversation surrounded her—loud and impossible to tune out.

"Obviously she's hiding it. She wouldn't come here this boldly if she was so weak? She's just waiting. You playing dumb is gonna annoy me."

"Whatever Rhea, maybe she's charging it. She doesn't look that old—probably hasn't even matured."

In a room full of people she had only recently begun to hate, they still found the time to mock her. She looked down at the broken laptop—bits of the screen had come apart, scattered and hanging loose.

"Matured or not, she doesn't stand a chance. It's not fair—I can't even get him to spar me."

"Yeah, she really poked the bear."

"Hahahahaa—well, that's what she gets. Don't hold back on her, darling."

Her breathing was far from steady. She gripped the jagged edge of a broken glass — slick, already biting into her palm. The council watched her, amused maybe. Even Callum didn't move. He stood across the table, broad-shouldered, hands open and at his sides, blazer creased perfectly, looking like he'd never thrown a punch in his life. 

He didn't flinch as Elara's shadow bent, as she circled the edge of the table, stalking. He wanted her to move first.

And Elara had no problem doing so. Her weight shifted to her weapon side, swaying back, drunken but gathering momentum.

Then she lunged—glass blade cleaving down from his left shoulder to his right hip, her full weight driving the strike like a guillotine.

Callum barely shifted. He slid back just enough for the edge to scream past his chest, carving nothing but air.

As the swing bottomed out, her arm fully extended downward and to her opposite side, Callum seized her wrist with one hand. Smoothly, he wrenched it upward and across her body. Her chest twisted open, off balance and exposed, spine torqued under his control.

Simultaneously, his other arm slipped across her throat, sliding smoothly into a chokehold from behind. Suddenly, her back pressed tight against his chest, his grip a solid bar around her neck.

The glass shard slipped from her fingers, tumbling to the floor.

Gasping, she twisted sharply, wrenching herself free. Spinning fully to face him, her foot caught the fallen shard mid-spin, flicking it expertly upward.

Without losing momentum, her opposite hand caught it midair in a reverse grip. She instantly swiped hard toward Callum's neck.

He tilted back, calmly, avoiding the slash by barely an inch.

"Come On!" He dragged the word out, flaunting his boredom. "Where's your honor? If this is your best, you'll never kill me."

She tried to block him out—his voice, the six faces watching behind him, all smiling like this was a game of keep-away.

You think this is a game? Honor? I don't care about honor.

Never before had Elara experienced such a surge of emotion, in the back of her mind she was horrified, but that was drowned out by a stronger feeling.