The two warriors met in an open field, with only the moon, stars, and Salai's glowing sword providing any light. They nodded respectfully to one another—a brief acknowledgment of skill, of their history together—before Razik spoke.
"To the death, my love?" he inquired, with a hint of a smile appearing on his face.
"Yes," Salai answered simply, stone-faced. "To the death."
Razik's tone shifted, becoming more grim. His smile vanished in an instant. "You know that there won't be any glory after this, right? No prize, no victory. Just carnage. One of us will die, and that's it."
"I know as well as you do," Salai said. "I assume you've made your peace, then?"
Razik nodded. "I did my best."
For the first time in several years, Salai smiled openly. "Then we can both die happily."
Salai shifted into a combat stance as Razik unsheathed his sword.
