Forcing the whispers and cries of complaint away, Natalin hurled herself in, taking two great strides towards Takio. If he was offering her the first strike, then she’d accept. The half-skirt hanging from her belt swished back, billowing with the sudden movement. The tip of her staff came up, driving straight towards Takio with unerring accuracy.

Range was her friend, she told herself. Mostyn had always been quite stubborn on that fact. She was too small, too short and slender to get into a close-quarters fight. A staff was a good fit, letting her maintain that distance she needed.

Takio’s fingers twitched - in surprise. A smug smile tugged at her lips. Served him right. About time he-

Her staff sailed through open air. It was her turn to lurch, staggering and off-balance, and try not to fall on her face. She hadn’t even seen him move. When had he-

A bit of color, a shadow of movement at the very edge of her vision. Natalin spun, pulling her staff back to the ready, and narrowly missed Takio’s counterattack.

The man’s eyes narrowed. A low, irritated noise reached her ears. He’d clicked his tongue, she realized. As though this was just a bother.

Her years of training took over in an instant. She was centered and back in position when his next blows rained out, one after another after another. Her arms ached, burning from the strain of the attacks he leveled at her, but not a one made it through her guard.

There was something oddly peaceful about their duel, Natalin mused to herself as she struck out on the offensive again. Takio dodged, bringing his wooden blade up just far enough to send her staff sailing uselessly to the side. There was a rhythm to it, a back and forth like-

Like he was running her through a series of drills. The realization settled home like a hammer, leaving her feel like she’d missed a block and gotten whacked upside the head. She could see it, when she looked more closely. His eyes, scanning her face, her shoulders. Watching the way she moved, the way she fought. He wasn’t fighting her - he was testing her.

Her frustrations surged in anew, all of her hard-won peace vanishing. He was right back to treating her like a sideshow, like this was all a game. She hadn’t trained for years to be looked down on, godsdamn it.

The worn wood of her staff squeaked under hands as she shifted, tightening her grip and bringing the weapon to bear. Every ounce of her focus zeroed in, locked on the Narai’s chest. He was treating this like some sort of game - so be it. He could play around all he wanted, and she’d make sure to take advantage of his disdain.

Her staff was like an extension of her arm, snapping out again and again at the slightest thought. He was bigger than her, but she was fast. Again and again she heard the hiss of his blade sailing through the open space where she’d been mere heartbeats before. He blocked her blows, evading the ones that came too fast and hard, but she was gaining.

Her limbs ached, though, burning hotter by the second as she pressed her onslaught. She was going to get tired. He’d strutted up, fresh from a night’s sleep and a leisurely stroll of her city. She’d already spent two hours on the dummy.

Natalin knew she wouldn’t have long before the tables turned, if things continued as they were. His orange eyes were locked on hers, a smile on his lips as he tried to twist the staff from her hands. She leapt back, letting his blade slide free and resetting her grip in a single smooth motion. He was still putting her through her paces like a rank-and-file recruit. She wasn’t fooled. There was an awareness behind the look he gave her, like he was watching for his moment.

So was she. As she withdrew, watching him lurch with his weapon extended, she shifted her weight to one foot.

It would be playing dirty, she knew. Mostyn wouldn’t approve in the slightest. His sense of honor and duty was too finely tuned to react anything but poorly. Gerd would be even more upset. She knew if he caught wind of her games, he’d shriek about the risks she took and the danger she’d put her counterpart in. She’d be lucky to leave the temple again before her Presentation.

But more than anything, she wanted to wipe that smile off his face. He wouldn’t treat her and her god so poorly, after.

As Takio bounded back half a pace, steadying himself and raising his blade, Natalin slammed her heel into the ground.

They were in the middle of the practice yard. The ground underneath them was hard-packed dirt - but it didn’t matter. She was the Tideborn. She seized the fact of it, fixing it in her mind and saturating the air around them with her mana. The ocean of it stretched out before her as she reached inward.

Fog filled the yard as the air soaked through instantly, crackling and popping with chill. Ice erupted from the ground under Takio’s feet, wrapping itself about his ankles. It grew ferociously fast, spreading up his boots.

Natalin fought back a smile, bringing her staff around to bear. Her own boots flexed as she poised herself on the balls of her feet, hurling herself towards her suddenly-trapped opponent. With no way to evade her, he’d have to-

Only the scent of smoke filling the yard gave the slightest bit of warning before fires sprang to life between them. Natalin gasped, biting back a shriek before it slipped out.

Takio was on her before she recovered. His feet were aflame, she saw from the corner of her eye as he lunged. Her ice melted away from it without a moment’s battle. His legs were covered with black, like soot and...she sighed. Like char.

Natalin was still fighting to shift from her attack to a blocking stance when his foot slammed into hers, knocking her off balance. His hand latched onto her wrist, tugging in one seamless motion and sealing her fate.

The sky danced in front of her eyes as she flew, wide-eyes and gaping.

The ground greeted her a moment later, driving the air from her lungs as she plowed back down. She wheezed, gasping for breath. The dirt of the yard was warm against her cheek.

A weight settled onto her back before she could think of moving, of skittering away to continue the fight. The tip of his training sword’s blade stuck into the earth alongside her face.

“Don’t play a trick you can’t follow through on,” Takio said from behind her. His voice had the same bored undertone as it had in the party, despite their pose.

Natalin twisted, trying to get an angle on him. His hand grabbed the back of her head, pressing her face into the dirt. “You know,” he said. “I’m not stupid.”

“I give in already,” she snapped, thrashing to free her legs. “Efren’s ass, is that what you want to hear?”

Takio snorted, as if about to comment on her choice of curses. But he stood with a sigh, stretching. The crack of bones popping carried across the practice yard.

Her heart froze as she pushed herself upright, beet red, and saw his skin was coated in black. Had he burned himself in the process of destroying her spell? Had he-

It wasn’t a burn, she realized. It was like his skin was covered with blackened, stony scales, which dropped away to dissolve on the breeze as she watched. She stared, morbid fascination overpowering even her wounded pride.

“Takio,” someone said, raising their voice. She jumped. Antiel. She’d forgotten he was there at all. “Time to stop playing with kids. I think we’ve taken up enough of the little miss’s time, don’t you? Besides, it sounded like the diviner wanted us to-”

“I know, I know.” Takio turned away without another look, crossing back to the weapons rack and depositing his training sword with a clatter. Spinning on his heel, he bowed, the picture of politeness. “Thank you for your time, Tideborn.”

That was it - no more pleasantries, no goodbyes, no acknowledgement that they’d done more than stand around talking. The black had vanished from Takio’s skin entirely by the time he took his first step towards the gate.

She stood in the yard, dirt still coating her clothes and her fists balled up at her sides, and watched as the Narai wandered off into the rest of the temple.