Her pupils spun and behold! Within the irises of Saldrich Aldaman bloomed a distinct mark: a three-leaf clover, fully unfurled. A perfect triad gleamed in each eye, bearing witness to the true heritage of an Aldaman. It wasn't just for show. This symbol confirmed what few possessed? An undeniable talent, a core trait of their bloodline.
Aldrich instinctively recoiled, leaping backwards in a sudden rush of motion. He didn't think. He didn't plan. His body moved of its own accord, guided by a primal urgency screaming that danger loomed close, far too close.
"Good reflex," Saldrich's voice rang out, sharp and unforgiving, "but not nearly far enough."
She closed the distance in the blink of an eye. So swift, so effortlessly natural, that Aldrich found himself wondering how she accomplished it without warping space. She extended her hand, two fingers, the middle and index pressed tightly together.
Then, she struck.
