The referees were seated on their platform, behind the announcer, clad in expensive silks and boasting some of the biggest jewels I had ever seen. Unlike previous tournaments, the Lord and Lady Supreme were not in attendance, and neither were their closest officials—I couldn’t see Zoltan or Petra or Corbin anywhere. The recent events had definitely diminished their appetites for public spectacles of bloody violence. It made me wonder, too… where were they? What were they doing?
“There’s a lot on your mind,” Kalon said, noticing my silence and, most importantly, my frown. The sun mask kept my nose and mouth hidden, but he could tell a lot from my eyes alone. I looked at him, feeling my nerves soften just a bit.
“Can you blame me?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not at all. But what has already happened cannot be changed. The best you can do is keep moving forward. Seek retribution. Focus on justice.”
“Even if said justice takes me to people who are close to you?” I replied.
Kalon seemed to think about it for a moment. “This isn’t about me, Esme. If anyone dear to me has anything to do with what happened to Nethissis, rest assured, I will assist you in exacting your revenge. I did not sanction any of this, and therefore it’s my duty to act as an extended hand of justice.”
“Your speech is impressive. But I do wonder…”
“You wonder what?” he asked, leaning closer ever so slightly, and so slowly that I barely noticed until I felt his breath gently brush against the slim and delicate fabric of my sun mask.
“Do you mean it?” I asked. “I wouldn’t fault you if my investigation stirred some negative feelings.”
My voice faded slowly as Kalon looked deep into my eyes. There wasn’t much sun breaching the reddish haze, and he’d pulled a large umbrella above us for some shade, but a ray of light still found its way across his face. I marveled at how it danced on his pale skin, making it shimmer discreetly.
“Wherever the truth takes us, I’ll take it,” he replied after a long silence. I could feel him digging into my very soul, yet I couldn’t tear my gaze from him. My heart pounded, nervous and restless, but I welcomed the sensation. He made me feel alive in ways I hadn’t thought were even possible.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer’s voice shot through the Blood Arena, finally breaking our moment. “Welcome to the grand finale of the forty-seventh mixed tournament!”
We turned to face the impending show as Fenyx Oak and Trev Blayne came out of the fighters’ pits and walked to the center of the arena. The crowd roared and clapped as they stood in the middle, facing one another. I heard several Rimians calling out Trev’s name, and I wondered whether they’d dared to bet on him. The odds were against him, but that could also mean a spectacular prize if he defeated Fenyx.
The contrast between fighters was stark. Trev was tall for his species, well-built but still wiry and agile, clad in dark blue armor with slim chainmail underneath and black leather straps keeping the metallic plates affixed to his calves, thighs, torso, and arms. His helmet was adorned with strange, long feathers that reached down to his waist, in shades of iridescent blue and gold. His weapon of choice was a single short sword—it looked sharp but also light, perfect for close combat, as it would allow him to easily move around his opponent.
Fenyx was not just big, he was also quite dashing, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore massive armor of silver, with diamonds embedded into his shoulder and chest plates. The leather straps were white, and he carried two scimitar-style blades with ivory handles and bejeweled hilts. He worried me. There was a high chance that he would be the one walking out of here alive today.
The announcer introduced them by name first. “In the dark blue armor, Trev Blayne is a beacon of hope for the Rimians in the mixed tournaments of our Blood Arena. Very few members of his species have ever made it this far without sustaining severe injuries. May the fates continue to support him!” he said, and the crowd cheered and booed. From what I could tell, Trev didn’t have that many fans here today, but those who’d come to support him were particularly loud and enthusiastic.
“Fenyx Oak has already made a name for himself among the silver guards of our city,” the announcer continued, smiling as he looked at the Aeternae. “His name has passed over many lips since his stunning victory in yesterday’s semifinal. We wish him strength and agility, for he may very well take the ultimate trophy today!”
“That’s a little unfair,” I said. “He’s basically assuming that Fenyx will win.”
Kalon smirked. “Most of them are assuming that Fenyx will win. Hence the spectacular odds.”
“Yet you bet on Trev,” I reminded him.
He gave me a faint shrug. “I have faith in him.”
To be fair, I was rooting for Trev as well, though my reason revolved mostly around the possibility of speaking to him later about the Red Threads faction and the Darklings. The announcer motioned for the crowd to simmer down, their shouts and cheers too loud and persistent, even for his ears.
“Now, gentlemen, you know the rules! This is a fight to the death. There are no rules!” He laughed out loud, throwing his head back for good measure. “Only one of you will leave this place alive. To he who dies today, I thank you, on behalf of our empire, for your bravery and determination. May there be fields of gold and rivers of sweet water and nights of pure bliss wherever your soul shall go next. You shall die a hero.”
One of the referees stood up as Fenyx and Trev assumed their attack positions, eyeing each other coldly. “On my mark!” he shouted. “Begin!”
Fenyx and Trev circled one another for a while. The crowd mostly chanted the Aeternae’s name. The Rimian didn’t seem bothered at all. I assumed he couldn’t even hear them anymore, focused exclusively on his opponent.
My heart leapt into my throat when Fenyx came at him, wildly swinging his scimitars. Trev stood still, and I braced myself for his most violent death. At the last moment, he slid to the right, and Fenyx wound up hurtling past him.
By the time the Aeternae stopped and swerved around to attack again, Trev had already begun his own offensive, darting toward Fenyx. Their swords clashed with a brain-scratching clang, Trev’s blade caught in the cross of the scimitars. Fenyx lifted his leg to kick the Rimian in the gut, but Trev was much faster and used his left leg to swipe at the Aeternae’s ankle. He knocked Fenyx down, shocking him—and the crowd, judging by the heartfelt gasps.
Trev then drove his sword into the ground, missing Fenyx’s head by inches. The Aeternae wasn’t ready to die yet, but he was clearly astonished by the Rimian’s speed and agility. He’d underestimated his opponent, as brute force did not work on Trev.
“He should’ve known he wouldn’t take Trev down with pure brawn,” I said.
“I suppose it’s a common misconception among my people… that Rimians are physically inferior and unable to survive in the arena for long,” Kalon replied. “Even after his previous victories, there are many Aeternae who still think they can beat him.”
Fenyx was fast as lightning, despite his size, but still sluggish when compared to Trev—which surprised me, as well. Biologically speaking, Rimians were closer to humans than they were to vampires, but Trev seemed like the athletic exception. They danced around each other, occasionally slashing with their swords, but neither drew blood.
It went on for a while, and some of the people in the audience started to groan, rolling their eyes and shouting at Fenyx to “kill that wretched Rimian already.” It made my skin crawl, but it also amplified my own desire to see Trev win this, just to spite these elitist assholes.
Fenyx, empowered by the crowd that favored him, began another attack.
Light on his feet, Trev was more than ready. He vanished out of the Aeternae’s way and quickly turned around, swinging his sword. The tip of the blade cut through a leather strap, drawing a spring of blood from Fenyx’s side.
“Argh…” the Aeternae grunted. He went after Trev again, but failed once more, getting cut a second time in the process.
The more he fought, the more tired and angry he got, and the Rimian played on these emotions with a smile on his face. He was enjoying this, watching the fighter before him descend into the very weakness that might secure his survival.
Fenyx brought his scimitars down simultaneously, and Trev once again avoided the hit. This time, however, he managed to drive his sword into the Aeternae’s side, where he’d already cut him earlier. Fenyx cried out in pain, and Trev punched him in the face, breaking several teeth. The move also made the Aeternae lose grip on his weapons.
With remarkable speed, Trev caught one of the scimitars before it fell to the ground, without letting go of the sword he kept pushed into Fenyx’s side. Before the Aeternae could even react, Trev swung out and cut off his head.
Only then did he pull his own blade back and drop the bloodied scimitar. The arena went quiet all of a sudden. I held my breath, for a moment fooling myself into thinking that maybe none of this was real. That I’d imagined it.
But as Kalon’s hand covered mine on the armrest, I knew… it was all real. And Trev Blayne had just won the tournament final. As Fenyx fell backward, his head rolling into the sand, the people jumped to their feet. Many were upset, cursing and frantically waving their hands around. They’d lost plenty of gold coins, it seemed. The few who’d bet on Trev, however, were absolutely ecstatic, cheering and whistling and clapping their hands so hard that it made their palms red.
