Most duels at the yearly Trials were bluff, set pieces, drama and showmanship. Crowd-pleasers.

Illusions, sometimes. Harmlessly straightforward attacks, in others. No risk at all to either participant.

But the last few were always the real thing. At the end of the long line of theatrics, there would be those who had real power, the real contenders for the prize of the Trials. Not the golden trophy or the silver medallions, but quiet nods from the elders in the shadows.

So when Narralov II took to the stage and challenged Semantine of Namastar, not a single man or woman dared to draw breath. Wizards did not duel witches. It was not done.

Nonetheless, the young woman calmly accepted the invitation. Long, confident strides brought her opposite Narralov, and the two bowed to each other.

No words were required, or wanted. The very air warped with energy from two very different sources of power, waiting to be unleashed.