“The crowd came for blood,” I said, voice carrying across the arena. “And they got it. Dozens of monsters down.” I tilted my head, eyes locking on Seamus.
Before he could respond, a voice that sent chills down my spine spoke. “Finish him.”
Her voice alone raised the temperature in the arena. Selene appeared at the edge of the observation box; black silk clothing that revealed the menace she carried, hair like gold, her tight smile filled with evil—the kind of control that hides madness.
Seamus tried to match her authority and failed miserably. “You heard her!” He bellowed. “End it!”
The crowd took up the chant again, bloodthirsty and eager.
I didn’t move.
The Varruk’s breath was heavy and deliberate. He wasn’t begging—it was almost as if he was giving me permission to sacrifice him to save myself. And something in me refused to obey.
“No,” I said softly. Hoping my voice didn’t carry the terror I was feeling at this moment.
It was almost a whisper, but the word landedhard. The crowd wavered. Seamus blinked. And Selene’s lips froze halfway through another command.
“What did you say?” She whispered in disbelief.
“I saidno.” This time, much firmer than before.
Her composure shattered. The mask cracked from one heartbeat to the next. “You dare defy me?” The sweetness vanished from her tone—what came out was pure venom. “You thinkmercymakes you noble? You think it makes you ahero?” Her eyes went wild, bright with rage. The air around her seemed to bend with it, silk fluttering though there was no wind. “Kill him,” she hissed again, “or I’ll?—”
“Enough.”
The word rolled through the arena like thunder.
It came from above.
The sound of it silenced everything—even the crowd’s roar died mid-breath. The air itself seemed to hold still.
Selene stiffened. Her head turned upward in disbelief. Her fury faltered, if only for a second.
High above the stands, past the golden glare of sunlight and the dust drifting through it, I saw him—a silhouette framed in shadow. The light hit just behind him, leaving his features lost, only the hard lines of a tall figure standing on a private balcony far above the crowd.
His voice carried again, smooth, deep, and unyielding. “Stand. Down.”
The words weren’t shouted. They didn’t need to be. They carried weight—Not the kind born of fear, but command so absolute it could not be denied.
Selene’s shoulders went rigid. Her mouth opened, then closed again. “Tr—” she started, voice trembling between reverence and panic.
“I said,” the man interrupted, each word precise as a strike. “stand down.”
For the first time in my memory, Selene looked small. Her jaw clenched; her hand trembled as she gripped the rail. Seamus shrank beside her, suddenly eager to be invisible.
The shadowed man turned his head slightly, not toward Selene, but towardme.
Even from that distance, I sensed it. The urge to follow whatever he commanded. The strange awareness rooted me to the spot. My fingers clenched around my hilts, the metal slick with sweat and blood.
The Varruk stood beside me, his massive frame blocking part of the sun. He didn’t bow. Didn’t look away. He just watched that silhouette with something close to recognition andhate.
Selene’s fury simmered beneath her silence. “You can’t mean to let her?—”
“I can,” the man said quietly, “and I do.”
A hush rippled through the crowd. The balance of power had shifted—and everyone could feel it.
Selene’s glare fell on me, her voice low and shaking with contained rage. “This isn’t over.”
