"Ballerina, second exit! Bone Crusher, wreck the third!"
Veric's order crosses the arena while Freya compresses the wings again.
The ice around her is pulled backward, exposing the line of the scythe and the tilt of her body. Deep Echo keeps the plates lit, his eyes split between me and my squad's movement.
"Pressure in the legs," he warns. "He's going out to the right."
This time, I don't go.
Kraken rises to the center of my guard, but Pegasus Wrath carries too much force for one blade. My left hand finds Eventide's grip at my belt. The black sword wakes with a low sound, and the blade forms at the same moment Freya fires.
Kraken reacts.
The weight shifts inside my hand, pulling the point toward center, trying to hold the space in front of my body alone. For an instant, both weapons fight for the same angle.
"Not now," I mutter.
'Is Kraken jealous? That's all I needed.'
I plant my feet and cross the blades.
