He'd unleash his magic; she'd fly off. She'd break another one of his sigils; he'd lash out and cut her flesh, only for it to heal with infuriating quickness. He'd destroy a building just to bring her down, and she'd waste his time by not politely sitting still and being crushed. She'd break his jaw; he'd break her wing just to see it snap back into place. She was exhausted, slowing down. He rarely managed to strike her, but when he did, it was devastating. No matter how many times she rolled with the hits, she was running out of steam. She couldn't keep this pace up.