The signal was given, and Bjorn charged. He may have been a wall of muscle, but Sylvie was quick like Cora. She dodged to the side, feeling the rush of air as his ax narrowly missed her. She took the opportunity, quickly countering with a jab toward his ribs, but her strike was off, the tip of Axel’s ax barely marking his leathers. She retracted backward with bated breath, preparing for his counter blow, narrowly missing a fist.

She watched the calculated way he stepped, shoulders squared, eyes locked. Bjorn was the wildcat, and she the mouse, his muscles rippling with every movement. She danced around him, using her agility to avoid his blows, yet she knew she could only do so for so long. Just like Cora, he would ware her out till her energy waned and she slowed. She had to strike right, and strike hard - while she still had the stamina.

Bjorn swung again, his ax coming down with a roar, and she twisted out of the way, feeling the force of his missed blow vibrate through the ground. She countered, ramming the hilt of Axel’s axe into his jaw with everything she had. His head snapped back, eyes flashing with surprise.

While he was startled, she made her move.

With a swift kick, her boot hooked behind his ankle, sweeping him off balance. He crashed to the ground, his ax skidding from his grip with a harsh clang. She pounced, straddling his chest before he could recover, Axel’s ax held firm at his throat.Her heart hammered in her chest, her hands trembling with the surge of adrenaline, but she pressed the blade close enough to nick his skin, a bead of blood forming along the ax’s sharp edge.

“Take his head.”

The ax seemed to whisper as it hummed in her hand, the runes flaring to life.

She ignored it.

“Yield!” She screamed in his face.

Bjorn’s eyes blazed with anger, as he scrambled beneath her. “Never.”

The one word parted from his lips like a warning, yet it felt like a word dipped in fate. In that one moment she could feel his anger, his extreme hatred cutting into her like a shard of glass - and it was clear he wouldn’t stop, until she was dead.

The runes along the ax flared again, as if to push her.

“Kill him now, before it’s too late.”

She hesitated. If she did this, she could enter the trials with one less enemy in her wake.

One less pair of eyes to follow in her step.

If she took his life now, she could possibly be saving herself later.

The ax burrowed deeper into his skin, summoning more tiny rivets of blood.

Her eyes burrowed into his.

Yet she hesitated too long.

His knee sent her sailing back, pushing her with a brutal force upward into the air. Her lungs wheezed, her breath gone, her eyes growing wide with the shock.

Within seconds he was on his feet with a snarl.

“You thought you had me?” He mumbled as he eyed her. “But I knew you were too weak to take the blow. Do you really think I’ll give up and die so easily? I will never stop until your head ismine.”

She huffed, trying to recover quickly.

She couldn’t hesitate, she couldn’t be without her wits for long.

“I didn’t kill Ubba, Bjorn.” Sylvie huffed, between ragged beats, keeping her distance from him, holding the ax closer

“Get his name out of your mouth!” He barked. “I will make you pay for what you did.”

He lunged toward her, and she dug in, deepening her stance to absorb the impact. The axes met, and she held steady, until his other fist flung towards her ribs knocking her down. She groaned, the force of his blow echoing through her bones, her teeth. Pulling her upward with one hand, he snarled as his eyes borrowed into hers.

“Weak and feeble, just like a twig easily broken.” He shoved her again, her head snapping back sharply as it met the dirt. “So much for being a child of the gods…”

His voice was cruel, twisting the story in her mind of what she already feared. Her body burned, her heart rising in her chest as her magic soared in her blood - angry, ready.

She spit at his face, causing him to release his grip and step back, just long enough for her to regain her feet and lunge. Her fist sailed toward his cheek, yet Bjorn was quick on the uptake, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her back before her blow could land. Pain shot through her shoulder and she cried out, struggling to break free. She twisted in his grip, fighting against the hold that pinned her down. Desperation surged through her as she drove her foot down, hard, nailing the leather of his boot.