As we circled each other, I sent out the barest flicker of pressure, just enough for him to feel it. The Bleeding Heart was unsighted. From his stricken face, he must have missed my red aura, and now he was realising he had bitten off more than he could chew. He sent a feeble spool at me, made of wisps, so frail I didn’t know why he had bothered. I forged a spool of my own and hit back, and he flopped like a boneless fish on the ash. Definitely playing dead. He must have lost his nerve, and with killers in the ring, I didn’t blame him.
Damn. Drag him, Paige.
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