alma marcela

The next Saturday night looked to follow the same as the others, but even as Sarah awoke just after midnight there was a greater urgency. Perhaps it was the fact that without school that day she had been lazing around for most of it, or perhaps the fact that her nightly drinks weren’t enough to satiate her anymore. As usual Sarah strode in through the open door of her father’s room, not bothering to tiptoe anymore knowing it wasn’t necessary. With a gentle flick the sheets of her father’s bed came sliding off and fell to the floor. Sarah crawled like a cat onto the bed, she had stopped wearing clothes a few nights before and her modest bosom grazed the top of his legs as she made her way up to her usual spot.

“And went back to doing the church’s dirty work. Let me guess, you were the one who sabotaged Roc’s fight? Oh, Bojena, for shame. You had it all: the respect of your peers, the power of a gold-ranked knight, and a noble purpose in serving the community, and you gave it all up to serve greedy men in robes.”

Seraph circled Phune, avoiding the mage’s attacks while replying with blasts of holy energy. They were small and weak bursts, as Seraph had little mana to spare, and were meant to distract more than harm, at least long enough for him to get in close and land a hit with his mace. That said, Phune wouldn’t have made it this far in the tournament if he could be defeated by such rudimentary tactics. He was quick on his feet, able to dodge with great skill and summon water barriers to block Seraph’s magic. Seraph was being kept at a distance, and getting in too close without a proper opening would be suicide.