Then, without warning, it lunged— but not to rend.
Its muscular shoulders bunched and released, launching the entire bulk sky-ward. Leaves exploded outward from the shock of air displaced by its weight. Sylara caught the flash of talons tucked close to its body as it crested the jump, silhouette stark against a strip of moon between branches. Time slowed the way it only does when muscle and mind both shout now. She read angles, guessed landing vectors, felt the hum inside her own veins spike.
Gravity seized the Guardian. It slammed down into the rune-etched arena with force enough to jolt teeth inside skulls. Lightning rode the impact— a perfect ring of crackling white that burst outward like a thrown shield, sweeping dust and loose petals in a centrifuge flare. Runes flared from amber to searing gold, struggling to swallow that raw surge.
