Whiplash

The long golden ropes snaked across the dark, blood-soaked soil. They weren't moving, and hadn't done for the past three hours. Although each of them was about half a kilometre long, there was at least three times that amount coiled up in the hands of black clad girl who controlled them.
She was dressed simply, in a plain black vest top and tight midnight blue cotton leggings, though both garments were trimmed with a silver that seemed to shine with an internal light. Her enemy, a boy maybe two months older than her, dressed contrastingly in white and gold, lay on the ground around twenty metres away, mud and sweat staining his once immaculate robe.
And then the ropes did move,suddenly striking out like a cobra to wrap around the boys ankles. He slid across the wet ground, the slick grass offering no resistance. When he was nearly a metre from the girl,he stopped. The rope slackened and melted like morning mist. He sprang to his feet, the sunstone pendant fashioned to resemble a classic sun with jagged rays of light swinging out from where it had been hidden in the folds of his clothes.
The girls eyes widened as she saw it and she hissed, wrapping her left hand round her own pallid white charm. This one was made of moonstone, a pallid white crescent standing out against her top. Her dark hair swung down either side of her face. It was damp with sweat and greasy too- she was not so intimidating as she had been at the beginning of the fray.
"This fight is over," she spat through her teeth. Her voice was harsh, cruel, like that of someone who has been shouting for a long time. Her deep blue eyes narrowed as she looked on her opponent, trying to out stare him.
"This one, yes. But it is not your victory," replied the boy. His tone was very different to that of the girls- it had a hoarse edge to it, but sounded more like a cool summer breeze than a harsh winter gale.
"What?!" the girl exclaimed, eyes widening. She took in the gilded figures that had appeared on either side of the now smiling boy, though it was a smile of malice, not amusement.
She snarled, stepping back and taking up a defensive position. The golden patterns that danced across their entire beings had changed to a deep blood red- the colour of the offensive players.
The quarter circle pendant on the delicate silver chain started to glow- softly at first, then slowly brightening into first something equal to a floodlight, then ten times brighter than that. In a single moment of pure blinding glory it flashed yet brighter- then went out altogether. The boy and guards recovered within seconds, but it was clear even without a search.
The girl had vanished. But one single word had been left in viciously pointed silver lettering on the stark muddy ground.
WHIPLASH
The boy threw back his head and howled his rage into the inky evening sky.