“Come on, Tori. Let’s get you looked after,” March said, as the pair fell to the ground behind her. “I suppose I’m going to have to kill their friends, because they’ll be out for revenge.”

Tori’s fuzzed senses heard March’s voice. “That’s not supposed to… be there.”

She forced herself to focus.

March, backing up. Two figures advancing. March tripped.

“It’s not the timing of my reinforcements that you fudged,” March said, as she rose to her feet. She stumbled a little on the retreat. “It’s the—”

Foil stabbed. March deflected. There was another thrust, and March met this one with a riposte. Her thrust extended toward Foil’s chest, and Foil met the tip with her hand.

From Tori’s side-on perspective, she could see how it worked. Harder to see head-on or from the wielder’s perspective. The blade grew shorter as it traveled. There was resistance as it met flesh, but the wound was relatively shallow. The blade didn’t extend out the back of the hand as Foil closed her hand around the guard.

Just as it hadn’t extended through the backs—or hearts—of the pair March had just stabbed.

“It’s the space,” March said.

There was no dodging or pulling away. She pushed power into the tip. Setting the timer.

The wound at the center of Foil’s left hand detonated, but the weapon had been compressed, the explosion was smaller, localized. Chunks of meat went flying, but Foil seemed to consider it worth the price. She returned the favor by stabbing March.

Tori let her head hang.

Foil spat.

“Spitting on her. Wowwww.”

“Deserves it.”

“Sure, not going to say no. But woww. Can we go get me my arm back?”

“Yeah. Let’s. And let’s get me a new left hand while we’re at it.”

Tori looked up, and saw the two walking away. The girl in the demon mask had her arm raised, waving off to someone distant. They whistled for the dog, and it padded by.

Tori thought of what May had said, about what awaited her, and allowed herself to recognize that Bianca would be there. As would the others.

The thought gripped her as the darkness carried her away. The warped length of a dropped rapier and the distortion of the ground around her reverted to normal, leaving only snow and blood to alter the ground.

Black 13.1

My preliminary stretches wrapped up with a plank. It was hard not to flip that mental switch that would see me floating, because it was so automatic and so easy to do, especially when my feet weren’t so flat on the ground.

I made it thirty seconds, which was abysmal, but I could already feel the stabs of pain, and this wasn’t supposed to be the part where I tested my limits. It was supposed to be where I prepared myself to test my limits.