Somewhere in his mind he realizes there’s nothing invading his thoughts, not yet, nothing but the thin whispers that colored his evenings as always. Maybe it was about willpower or maybe something about her…but it’s observation in the face of what really matters: finishing this through death or capture.

Her attacks are wild and he blocks a couple and a few others fall to his armor, but not all. One catches along his upper arm and shoulder and burns. he follows that burning trail with his own blade to dig deeper into the wound and re-wet his blade.

The radiant light flares stronger, closer to how it should feel, and he takes boldened steps to swing at her twice with the glowing glaive.