We've been shown how not to live by gracious kings of old
As distance grew between them, Noah's glacier eyes trackd the swirl of air and earth curling around Deimos like a living barrier. The cyclone spun in a tight, controlled circle. Noah’s hands hung loose at his sides; no shifts, no magic, no weapon, just bone, muscle, and instinct. He let his weight settle low.
Then he moved. A quick step forward, and a low sweep aimed at Deimos’ right ankle. He kept his upper body tucked, arms close to avoid giving anything extra for the cyclone to redirect. The wind howled as it bent around him, trying to meet him. The sweep carried through with the momentum of his leg driving into the ground first, the motion fluid, practiced. He didn’t try to overpower the cyclone.
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Then he moved. A quick step forward, and a low sweep aimed at Deimos’ right ankle. He kept his upper body tucked, arms close to avoid giving anything extra for the cyclone to redirect. The wind howled as it bent around him, trying to meet him. The sweep carried through with the momentum of his leg driving into the ground first, the motion fluid, practiced. He didn’t try to overpower the cyclone.
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NOAH
