Not Brynleigh.
Standing upright took far more effort than it should have as she gathered shadows in her palms. She had begun this fight on the defensive, and she’d been there ever since.
She couldn’t win like this.
Every part of her hurt, and even though she was still firmly in control, this needed to end.
Brynleigh looked down, glimpsing Jelisette at the base of the stage. A reminder of her purpose.
The Crimson Shade moved to the right. Brynleigh took a few steps to the left, maintaining the space between them.
He lunged; she ducked. He kicked; she rolled away.
The crowd’s bloodthirsty chants continued in the background.
“Finish her!”
“Champion! Champion! Champion!”
“Knock that vampire out!”
Darkness glinted in the Death Elf’s eyes, and Brynleigh swallowed. She knew that look. He was done playing and meant to finish her off.
The Champion’s fists curled again, but instead of lunging towards her, he drew red ribbons into his palms.
“Crimson Shade! Crimson Shade!” the crowd chanted frantically.
Brynleigh reached within herself and frowned. Her shadows were still present, but she was weakening. She was still a fairly young vampire, and it hadn’t been that long since she’d been being tortured daily.
No fangs, no wings.
The rules seemed unfairly biased against her, especially as the Champion twisted his fingers and formed a long, barbed whip out of his crimson magic.
He snapped the whip in the air, and before Brynleigh could move, the tail end slashed across her cheek.
Sharp pain bloomed in her face, and she hissed.
Behind the Champion, Jelisette’s black eyes gleamed in the darkness.Put an end to this,she seemed to say.
Closing her eyes briefly, Brynleigh drew in a deep breath. She could do this. Even tired, she was still a gods-damned powerful vampire.
She would defeat this man if it was the last thing she did.
Imagining Ryker’s voice encouraging her forward, Brynleigh drew on strength buried deep within her. She ignored the Champion’s whip, moving as quickly as possible. Her arms pumped, and her legs pounded as she raced across the stage.
She charged the Death Elf head-on. His eyes widened as she drew near, and he coiled his whip to attack her again.
He wasn’t fast enough.
This time, Brynleigh avoided that painful slash of magic and leaped in the air.
A cry slipped from her lips as she landed on the Champion’s back, clinging to him like a monkey. Sweat ran down his back in rivulets, and it took everything Brynleigh had not to cry out at the disgusting feeling of his slick skin against her hands.
The Champion roared and swung around, trying to buck Brynleigh off. She held on tight. Directing her shadows to wrap around his middle, they secured her to the Death Elf’s back like a harness.
The rules banned fangs and wings but said nothing about vampiric strength.
She would have one shot at this.