The green ball rested in her palm, almost casual, like she was holding a toy instead of a weapon.

It was about the size of her hand, smooth, faintly glowing.

She rolled it once between her fingers and smirked.

The barrier had been on the whole time.

That alone made my stomach tighten.

"I know something like this could happen," she said lightly, tilting her head, watching us.

"That's why I made a gas version."

Before I could move, before I could shout a warning, she clenched her fist.

The ball exploded.

The mist hit my skin like wet cloth.

Not burning. Not choking.

Just wrong.

My first breath came out shaky.

My second didn't feel like it belonged to me.

It didn't shatter.

It burst.

A thick green mist spread outward in a single violent pulse, flooding the room in seconds.

It clung to the air, to the walls, to us.

"Not good, everyone cover your mouth!" I shouted.

I grabbed my coat collar and pulled it over my nose and mouth.

Around me, chairs scraped as the others reacted, hands flying up, fabric pressed tight against faces.

Someone coughed.

Someone else swore.

It didn't help.

The smell wasn't sharp or choking.

It was dull, heavy.

It felt like it was sinking into me instead of being breathed in.

My head swam almost instantly.

My limbs felt heavier, slower.

I blinked hard, trying to stay focused.

Meanwhile, Maria screamed.

Not loud.

Not long.

Just once, sharp, before her knees buckled.

Across the room, the woman laughed.

Then turned her gaze away from Maria.

"That's not a physical smell," she said.

Her voice carried easily through the haze, amused and confident.

"It's a magical one."

"It gets absorbed by the skin surface, not just your nose."

"Covering your mouth won't help at all."

My face darkened as I turned toward the others.

One by one, they dropped.

First, Elaris collapsed against the table, knocking over a chair before sliding to the floor.

Then Sarah slumped sideways, her hand still half-raised.

Within seconds, every one of them was down, spread across the room in awkward positions, breathing slow and deep.

Asleep.

I clenched my jaw.

I was still standing, but barely.

The fact that I was still upright didn't feel like strength.

It felt like the spell was deciding where to start.

My knees trembled.

My vision blurred at the edges.

The world felt distant, like I was underwater.

I gritted my teeth and forced my eyes open wider.

If I stayed here, I'd fall too.

I turned and rushed toward the window.

If I could break it, open it, anything, airflow might thin the smell enough to buy time.

I took three steps.

She was suddenly in front of me.

"Not that easy, dear," she said.

Her hand went to her waist.

In one smooth motion, she drew a dagger.

The blade caught the light, short and practical, made for close fighting.

I stopped and flexed my fingers.

My claws slid out with a familiar sting, metal-hard and sharp.

For a moment, we just stared at each other.

The green mist drifted lazily between us.

Then we moved.

She struck first, fast and low.

I slashed upward, our weapons colliding.

Sparks flew as my claws met her dagger, the sharp crack echoing in the room.

She didn't retreat.

She pressed in, twisting her wrist, angling for my side.

I jumped back, barely avoiding the blade, and countered with a wide slash.

She ducked under it.

"You're slower than you should be," she said.

Her eyes flicked past me, to the bodies on the floor.

"You know," she continued, "they won't wake up if the dose goes too deep."

And using the moment I was distracted she lunged again at me.

I blocked, sparks flashing again.

My arms felt heavy.

Each movement took more effort than it should have.

Her attacks were unpredictable.

She didn't follow patterns.

One moment she went high, the next she swept low, then suddenly she was inside my guard, dagger flashing toward my ribs.

I kept backing up, forcing space, my claws scraping against furniture as I moved.

A table tipped over behind me.

"Still standing," she said.

"Impressive."

I didn't answer.

Talking felt like too much effort.

The drug, or spell, kept sinking deeper.

My reactions dulled.

The room tilted slightly every time I moved my head.

She feinted left, then spun right.

I reacted too late.

The dagger punched into my shoulder and my arm went numb instantly.

Not weak. But Dead.

My claws scraped uselessly against the floor as my balance collapsed with it.

I gasped and dropped to one knee, my free hand clamping over the wound.

The floor felt cold against my knee.

My vision blurred further, dark spots dancing at the edges.

My breathing grew heavy.

She stepped back, studying me.

"You really are tough," she said.

"Others would've gone down in ten seconds max."

"You managed to hold on for a full minute."

Her tone wasn't mocking. It was almost respectful.

I stayed kneeling, my head bowed.

Keeping my eyes open felt like holding them open against a storm.

Every blink threatened to be my last.

Footsteps approached.

She stopped right in front of me.

I felt her finger under my chin, lifting my head.

Her face swam into view, calm, curious, satisfied.

"Any last words?" she asked.

If this didn't work, there wouldn't be time for another thought.

But I suppressed my fear and smirked.

With my free hand, I summoned the black sword.

The weight of it snapped into existence instantly, familiar and solid.

I swung without hesitation, pouring everything I had left into the strike.

Her eyes widened in terror.

She barely evaded, stumbling back as the blade cut through the space where her neck had been.

But it wasn't clean.

The edge clipped her shoulder, slicing through fabric and flesh.

She hissed in pain, clutching her arm as blood spilled down her side.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, both wounded, both breathing hard, the green mist still hanging in the room.

The barrier was still on.

And the mist wasn't thinning, and blood was already pooling under my knee.

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