Reprisal

	“You must be crazy.”

	The buffeting but dry winds billow against the flowing robes of the duelist, who poised with a hand at their hip and fingers curling around the hilt of their blade stands opposite their opponent. The charge in the air winds through the both of them, the towering trees of Enkharr flanking them at all sides in a familiar clearing, a little post with red and blue notches standing in its midst. The atmosphere about them was as if a yawning and bloodied chasm had broken open between them, neither one of them crossing a certain distance.

	“I really don’t want to discuss this at length, Anaiva. I knew you wouldn’t understand, but I didn’t expect to see you fondling your sword like that…” spoke their opponent, a tall and willowy Lyxaris in equally dark and covering clothing; adorned with blue, contrast with his sibling’s red.

	“Do you think this is a joke?” they said in return. They took a slow step forward, the red shimmer of their hard-light blade becoming visible as the hilt pulled away from the scabbard. As they began to draw, so too did their opponent, though he hesitated and backed away as many steps as they took.

	“It’s not this serious, that’s for sure… you don’t draw your blade on someone outside of the terms of a duel, don’t you know that? Come now. The Reprisal is a worthy cause.”

	“Then don’t do this. Don’t make me draw this blade, because you know damn well that I can’t let you walk away. Don’t you know that? Why did you even fucking tell me? Just to mess with me?” Although their tone grew more accusatory, their stance relaxed, and they began pressing the blade back into its sheathe.

	A dead silence settled over the two of them, tense and cold. Slowly, they circled that invisible chasm between them, barely exposed eyes glowing like baleful floodlights in a dark and electrical forest. That blue blade drew first, its shine bright and unnatural against the moonlit forest floor.

	“If this is how it’s going to be,” he spoke with resignation, “but I don’t want to fight. I’d rather we go our separate ways.”

	With none of the flourish and grace usual to them, they drew their blade in turn, the hot red clashing with the cool blue, the pointed tip just inches from their sibling’s.

	“You know we can’t do that, Valsai.”

	With a deep sigh, and great hesitation, Valsai gave a flick of his blade and spoke, “So be it.”

	Anaiva’s blade slowly drew back, as they took their stance, and the first swing was taken. In a flurry of color and motion, the two blades sparked and streaked across each other, Anaiva’s rage evident in the harsh and heavy blows she dealt compared to their brother’s calm ripostes and well-planned steps, the duel becoming nothing more than Anaiva swinging brutally at her brother and hoping that one of the many strikes would break his defense.

	Forcing them a few steps back with a particularly sudden swing in return, Valsai took a more offensive stance, the end of his blade pressed flush to Anaiva’s chest, well past their guard. “You know I don’t want to hurt you, Anaiva. But I can’t have you chasing me.”

	“And you know I will,” they snarled in return, “traitor.” They knocked the flat of his blade away with their gauntlet and made a daring swing, stepping past his guard in the process. Although their own slice glanced across his chest and left a noticeable, oozing blue gash that cast more of that colorful light into their dark surroundings, his retaliation took their blade with it, and the arm that clutched it so.

	The dirt soon stained a faintly glowing red, Anaiva staggered back, eyes wide and terrified; although they’d just been trying to do the same to their sibling, the reality of the situation suddenly sparked in their eyes. They restrained themselves from howling in pain, just breathing heavily and staring all but vacantly into their brother’s gaze.

	He raised his bloodied sword over his head, as though to make a final strike, but hesitated. Soon, it was retired to his side, and his fingers slipped from around the hilt, and he turned away from his almost cowering sister, casting the scabbard from his hip as well.

	“Don’t follow me, Anaiva. Not unless you come to your senses—if you do, I will gladly accept your assistance.” He looked back at her, as if seeking a response, but got only a narrowed glare and bared teeth. With a shake of his head, and a swift step, he disappeared into the dark and towering trees.

	Slowly, they stood. Hard-light wove itself into a temporary limb, staving off the bleeding long enough for them to scoop up their blade as well as their brother’s, sheathing both and disappearing into the forest as well, trembling and heaving.