I heard a pulse of energy zip through the air behind me—a weak attempt to disorient and stun. My nerves flared with warning, the dryness in my throat intensifying at the faint tang of ozone. Spinning on my heel, I caught another blade with my own, steel ringing in a discordant clash as ephemeral sparks shot out where illusions vied to reinforce the cultist's weapon. He was strong, or at least, the meltdown had made him so. But illusions rarely matched real skill. I pivoted my hips, forcing my sword against his in a locking angle, then drove my foot into his chest with a brutal snap of motion.