The Dragon's Silent Shadow
Instead, she channeled the eclipse-residual heat in her blood into a focused, laser-thin lance of violet plasma.
She thrust two fingers forward. The plasma lanced out, piercing clean through the visor of the nearest Shadow Guard. The man dropped without a sound. She pivoted gracefully, her estoc flashing in her other hand to parry a bayonet thrust from the second guard, before unleashing a burst of heat directly into his chest plate, cooking the electronics of his suit.
Meanwhile, Tristan was fighting a losing battle.
He scrambled to his feet just as Sylas spun around. She attacked with a relentless, mechanical rhythm. Slash. Thrust. Diagonal sweep. Tristan parried the first strike.