But god, I think I hit her.
I try to rise. Can’t. My limbs won’t answer.
Not just from pain, from emptiness. Like I cracked something open that shouldn’t have moved.
A hard, hammering thud pounds behind my eyes as I force my gaze up. The blast haze clings to everything, thick, acrid. Heat ripples off the mat. I blink hard, eyes burning, scanning for movement—anything.
A shape shifts.
There. Other side.
My gut twists as Beth pushes through the smoke, her top’s half-charred, one sleeve shredded to the elbow. Blood streaks from her temple down her jaw, and the left side of her face is burned—skin blistered raw along her cheekbone.
But she’s still upright.
Still fucking moving.
Not broken.
Not even close.
She sways, just once. Then straightens, slow and shaking. Her hand lifts—trembling slightly—as she brushes soot from her sleeve like she’s dusting off a stain. Then her eyes find mine. Lock. Hold. And she smiles—slow, pitying.
“You really thought I wouldn’t see that coming?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I try to regather—dig down for anything,anything—but my magic doesn’t answer. Threads are gone, empty.
I reach up my arms, spread my fingers, pull again. Sparks. That’s all. Just sparks. Flickering and weak. No pull. No surge. No shield. They're gone.
I used everything I had, everything that wouldn’t kill me, and what's left is knotted so tight, so deep I can’t access it, no matter how hard I pull.
“Cute,” She laughs softly, low and pitying. “That you’re even still trying.”
I lower my hand slowly, fingers trembling in the open air. There’s nothing left to grab on to. Nothing left to give. I’m unravelled, hollow, and for the first time since stepping on to this mat, I feel it—truly, fully feel it.
I’m going to die.
Not because I wasn’t strong enough, but because I gave her exactly what she wanted. Let her draw me out. Let her bleed me dry, one move at a time. Like a game. Like a fucking rehearsal.
It hits me all at once, not panic, not even anger. Just the slow, cold truth sliding in behind my ribs.
I gave everything. And she barely had to try.
God, I should never have come back.
I left Bren. Left Ashvale. I came here for answers. And now I’m going to die here with nothing, in front ofthem.
From across the mat, Beth raises a hand. Her Threads snap into the air, invisible but suffocating, and the pressure hits hard—shoving at my chest, crushing the air from my lungs.
The room falls away. No crowd, no spectators, just Beth.Just this.The mat under my knees. The burn in every inch of me.
Still, I reach, I dig. Scrape. Not because I think it’ll work, but because I don’t know how to stop trying.
They’re there, under her grip around me. I can feel them, months’ and months' worth of Threads knotted deep in my core, thrumming just beneath the surface. So close I can taste the magic. But no matter how hard I pull, they don’t come. But I keep pulling, just like she taught me.
Just like Beth taught me.
