“We need to go.” Zeriel’s voice cuts through the fog in my mind.
Words refuse to form. The past hours are fragments: flashes of steel, sprays of blood, magic vanishing into nothing.
Zeriel steers me toward the exit, his body a shield between me and the carnage behind us. The path stretches ahead, impossibly long, each step an effort, as if my boots are nailed to the ground.
Imperial guards flank the gate, their faces hidden behind helmets, impassive as statues.
Outside, the air feels no cleaner. Copper and fear cling to every breath, only thinly masked by the strange scent of the forest.
The carrier gloamwyrms wait in formation. Ours lowers its head as we approach, nostrils flaring. Its mind brushes mine—curious, detached, unmoved by the day’s carnage. Like every imperial dragon, it knows only blood and duty.
Zeriel helps me mount, then swings up in front of me. I clutch him again as the gloamwyrm surges forward. Wind tears at my face, but I barely feel it. He’s quiet too.
Before I know it, we bank toward the clearing where the champions’ lodges stand. We dismount quickly, not casting a glance back toward the other champions.
Inside our lodge, fresh garments wait on the beds—this time, not the ceremonial silks or parade leathers. These are black, close-fitting, with reinforced seams, made for endurance.
My eyes land on the tray of food sitting on the table and the truth lands heavy. Survival doesn’t pause for shock, or grief. Or questions.Like where the hell did Lira and Nyx go?
Zeriel moves to the table where food has been laid out. He picks up a piece of bread, tearing it with more force than necessary before shoving it into his mouth. His movements are mechanical, a fighter’s efficiency rather than appetite.
“You need to eat,” he mutters, nodding toward a seat. “Focus on what you can control.”
I stare at the food, my stomach churning with the memory of blood soaking into dirt. I don’t admit it aloud but I know he’s right. I force myself to sit, biting and chewing without tasting. Each swallow feels like pushing stone down my throat.
I’m barely a quarter through my plate when a knock comes at the door. Not urgent, but purposeful. Three sharp raps.
Zeriel moves to answer it, revealing Selen standing there in full view. No void-drake suit, no attempt at concealment this time. Just her silver hair and teal eyes, stark against her dark training suit.
Apparently she thinks it’s an acceptable moment for the Ironhold champion to receive a visit from an Ironhold trainer.
And I’m glad. Because I’ve got more than questions.
She steps inside without invitation, and Zeriel closes the door behind her.
“What happened out there?” I blurt.
Selen's gaze flicks to me, cool and assessing. “I don't know. I've been busy with other matters.”
I stare at her, momentarily speechless. Her absence confuses me, but her dismissive tone makes my hands curl into fists. “Excuse me? Other matters? Peoplediedout?—”
“People die every day in the empire,” she cuts me off. “The question is whether their deathsserve a purpose.”
There’s something different about her today—a tightness around her eyes, a subtle tension in her shoulders. She seems coiled, focused with an intensity that makes the air feel charged.
But it clashes with my already boiling nerves.
“And what purpose would their deaths have served?” I snap.The women you were supposed to protect,I want to add, although I know there was never any such guarantee. Selen’s an opportunist—and one with unknown motives. She’ll use and discard you at will, that much is clear by now.
“We have very little time,” she continues swiftly as if I hadn’t asked the question. She moves closer, eyes narrowing as she scrutinizes us. “The first round’s about to begin, and there's something we need to address.”
She reaches into her pocket and withdraws a small vial. The liquid inside isn't black or the golden serum from before, but something that glistens almost purple in the lodge's dim light.
“What is that?” Zeriel asks, suspicion edging his voice.
“An amplifier,” Selen replies. “For what I've already awakened in you both.”
She unstoppers the vial, and the scent hits me immediately, sweet but with an undertone of something metallic, like blood and honey mixed together.
