" Can’t even get out of my grasp? Or is it because you secretly don’t want to. ''
Jaheira had to admit — Shadowheart was good. The spar had been going well, each of them pushing the other, steel against steel, instinct against instinct. But youth had its advantages, and Jaheira wasn’t as fast as she once was. That much became painfully clear when she suddenly found herself trapped beneath Shadowheart’s grapple, limbs locked in place, muscles straining to break free but to no avail.
Jaheira had never been fond of admitting defeat. Not in her youth, not now. And she certainly wasn’t about to start today.
She clicked her tongue, eyes narrowing as she took in Shadowheart’s triumphant smirk. That was the real problem — not losing, no. It was the insufferable gloating that often followed. And Jaheira did hate a smug winner.
So, she changed the game.
With a slow, measured breath, she reached for the power thrumming in the land. The ground beneath them shifted. Thick, thorned vines burst forth, winding around Shadowheart’s limbs, coiling tight in an instant. The young cleric’s victory was short-lived — the moment Jaheira felt the weight lift, she flipped their positions, pinning Shadowheart down instead, smirking as she loomed over her.
Jaheira leaned in just enough that her voice came out in a low, teasing growl.
“So? Can’t get out?” She returned the question, her smirk widening. “Or… do you secretly not want to?”
