See, the problem was that he never really believed in a happy ending. Not for them. Too much water had flowed under the bridge and now it had been set aflame with a finality that left nothing else to say.
There were no words that could mend the rift that had been torn between them. He didn't even want to try. In the dragging moments where he gazed into the cold eyes of the Frostheart he felt a fleeting sadness as he thought of Nyx - poor, struggling Nyx who tried so hard to mend what had always been broken. But then there was only them. Him and the King, a dragon and two owls, all equal in their knowledge that this had gone much too far already.
It was time to settle the matter in the only way they knew.
Maybe it was the sudden steel within those blue eyes, perhaps a quiver of will that stirred the ether, or just a year on the battlefield to hone reflexes developed from early childhood. Whichever it was; when the attack came he was ready for it. The instant the ice erupted from the ground Lace shoved himself into a high rear and fell to the right, avoiding the first spike, and the second... The third stabbed into the flesh at the left side of his barrel and tunneled up beneath the skin, until finally the sharp tip burst out in a shower of crimson blood. The ripping, tearing sound as flesh was rent apart was even more nauseating than the pain, and he made no attempt to swallow the shriek of pain as he jerked himself loose from the ice.
It will heal, he thought as darkness hovered at the edge of his vision, it will mend, I will live... It didn't help much. His side still hurt like a bitch, and for a short, horrifying moment he glanced down over himself to see whether he had been cut open. But no. No slippery intestines dangled beneath, no guts had been exposed or damaged. Only blood splattered onto the snow-covered ground, red and steaming in the cold air.
Luck was with him.
He staggered off to the side, and as he did the narrowing eyes focused on the burning orb that hovered above them all, quivering as his will wavered. With a thought he forced the burning sun down towards Mauja and let go of the compressed flames, allowing it to shatter, erupt, explode. It might burn him too, maybe set fire to the surrounding trees, but he didn't care. Lace would heal; he could already feel the crawling, itching sensation within the wounds that suggested his curse work its mending magic. Cells would knit together, ruptured vessels regrow and soon enough the wounds would be gone without a trace, leaving no scar behind to tell about his suffering.
But not quickly enough. He still had a battle to fight.
And among the trees the dragon snorted contemptuously as she spun around in the air and let loose a jet of searing flame towards the young owl, guarding against claws and beak with the hottest fire in the world. She didn't wish to hurt the boy because he too was a son of wind and winter. But neither could she let this act of ignorance slide. Was she not a queen of these woods, now that Akaith was no longer here? The oldest dragon in Helovia, bound by love and soul to the true king...
They would regret belittling a daughter of light - if they lived to look back upon the battle at all.
WC: 603
PC: 1/4
Summary; Lace rears and throws himself to the right to avoid the ice, but is struck by the third ice spike. It stabs into the right side of his stomach and moves up beneath the flesh, puncturing the skin where the tip comes out. He rips himself loose and moves off further to the right, simultaneously trying to move the sun down towards Mauja before making it explode.
Elsewhere Fajira spins over onto her back and sends a jet of fire towards Diego in a combined block and attack.
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[LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace
