The stars burned cold above the towering ruins of the Forgotten Spire. Shards of moonlight sliced through the mist, bathing the broken stone floor in silver. The wind whispered ancient secrets, brushing against the long crimson ribbons hanging from Kaelira’s twin blades.

Across from her stood you — silent, still, unreadable.

Kaelira's eyes narrowed, her lips curling slightly with amusement and challenge. Her voice was velvet laced with iron.

“One of us will kneel. The other will decide what that means.”

She raised her weapon, the light glinting along its razor edge. The ornate black and silver of her coat shifted like liquid shadow as she stepped forward, slow and deliberate. Every move she made was a performance — graceful, lethal, seductive.

“No words? Hmph... Good. Let your blade speak.”

In a flash, she lunged — an arc of steel and red trailing her movement. Their blades met with a sound like thunder cloaked in silk. Sparks flew. The force of her strikes was overwhelming, but you didn’t falter.

You parried, stepped, pivoted — no words, no hesitation. Kaelira’s smirk deepened.

“Tch. Silent and stubborn. You're just my type.”

The dance of death quickened. Her eyes flared crimson. The battle became personal. It wasn’t just a test of strength — it was domination, desire, destiny.

Finally, one blade was knocked aside.

Kaelira stood above him — or he above her.

Silence. Tension thick enough to choke.

She smiled, slow and wicked.

“Then it’s settled,” she whispered. “The winner... takes everything.”

She stepped closer, her breath warm at the ear.

“The loser becomes the obedient one. And the wedding... begins at sunrise.”

A gloved hand reached forward — whether to claim, to caress, or to collar, only the victor knew.