In the Grand Arena of Red Pavilion, filled with hundreds of citizens in the stands, Irene Ash stood barefoot in the center, ash swirling faintly around her ankles like smoke from a campfire. Her long coat fluttered as if caught in an unseen breeze. Her gaze was calm and confident.
Across from her, Redgar Haze cracked his knuckles. The soles of his boots sank slightly into the dust. His cloak shimmered faintly. A tattoo of scales crawled from his neck down his arms, glowing dully with each breath he took.
"Well," Redgar said, brushing hair out of his eyes. "Get ready to be beaten down, Lady Ash."
Irene blew gently on the flame with her fingers. It flickered out, and in its place, a flurry of ash exploded from her sleeve, spiraling into the air like a miniature storm.
"We'll see about that," she said.
The ash snapped forward like a whip.
