A Breath of Steel

My grip tightened. The blade in my hand, once bound in stillness, answered to my will. I lowered my stance upon the lacquered timber, feeling the faint vibration of the air. To my left, a figure stood poised amid frozen flames of blue. I stepped forward, extending the golden tip until it met the translucent edge with a precise, metallic chime. It did not strike back; it remained rigid. Conscious breath belongs solely to me. I drew my guard back, calm and watchful, taking the measure of this expansive hall.