A diagonal slash to the brow turned into a crescent feint and swift stab at the liver. Yanael stopped the tip of Sevir's sword with the flat of her blade before twisting her weapon to the side and swinging it upward, cutting a golden streak through the air.
Sevir leaned back, narrowly avoiding a nick to his nose—but not to his wide-brimmed hat. He used one hand to put out the fire that Yanael's sacred energy ignited while whipping his sword around with his other and knocking Yanael's sword aside.
Sevir's arm quickly retracted before immediately springing forward, led by a sharp step. The simple-looking man turned into a being of singular devotion.
Yanael felt the intent to pierce the sky in Sevir's thrust. This was not an attack she could block, parry, deflect, or defend against. It was not an attack anyone could defend.
