Leslie Letterknight was the first to step into the center. The arena quieted, ready to watch a display rather than a fight. Her boots tapped softly against the platform floor as she crossed to the open floor, pale hair catching the light from above.
The other representatives remained where they were for the moment, watching her with the same expectation everyone else had.
Kasto leaned slightly toward Lancet and Anita and muttered, "I wonder what she's going to do."
Lancet kept his eyes on Leslie. "Something cold, probably."
Kasto looked at his smartass of a friend.
On the field, Leslie raised one hand. Ice spilled from her palm in a clear, glittering stream.
It did not burst or roar like ordinary magic. It poured out with controlled purpose, gathering in a thick, precise flow that spread across the floor and climbed upward in shaped layers.
