The sword slipped from Laurel's hand and spun out of reach, striking the ground with a dull sound that lingered longer than it should have, as if it marked the moment her strength finally gave way, and for a brief second her fingers remained half-curled in the air as though she still believed she could reach it, yet her arm would not move no matter how much she willed it to.
Ling Xuan stepped forward with a slow pace, her blade cutting through the space between them before stopping just inches away from Laurel's neck, close enough for the cold edge to press against her skin. An undeniable reminder of how easily everything could end if she chose to let it.
Laurel did not look at the sword, but she did not step back either.
