The air I’d been clutching slipped through my lips. Yvonne peered over her shoulders, her eyes sparkling with a strange mix of triumph and relief before she ascended again, a determined expression on her face. I pushed the morbid image away as others attempted the climb, their movements tentative, distrustful of the strange, living grips.
Beside the wall, long ropes as broad as sprawled from the circular margins to the floor. Draven gripped one with both hands, his fingers whitening against the abrasiveness of the string as he hauled himself upward, working his legs and torso at once. Every time his palms moved forward, a trace of blood was left behind. With each pull, the rope quivered, but I tore my gaze away and focused on the shifting terrain next to me.
The area was wide enough to accommodate three people at once, their feet running before them as the unforgiving ground refused to remain motionless. Platforms of stone shifted and tilted without warning; rising, falling, and spinning as if the earth itself was alive. Each step demanded constant adjustments—one moment the ground was solid beneath them, the next tilting, forcing them to leap before it shifted to a muddy road. In the blink of an eye, the ground morphed into a pool, and the twins and Verena hit the surface with a loud splash, their limbs immediately starting to move.
A shiver ran down my spine, causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end. I observed that the contestants seemed more interested in identifying each other’s weaknesses than in dedicated training.
Yvonne watched with a glint in her eyes as Verena struggled to keep pace with the turning tides of the water. With his tongue against his teeth, Draven’s gaze conveyed his annoyance as he observed Yvonne climb effortlessly. Even Zachary strained, pushing his physical limits in a desperate bid to edge ahead of his brother and Verena.
My teeth gritted against each other. It would be an unwise choice to train now. I was going to return later tonight.
“Ready to sleep?” 226688 asked a couple of hours later when everyone was asleep.
“No. Veyrith us to the arena.”
The fairy made a show of rounding his eyes. “Nowyou want to train? You should sleep! Why do you have to do everything backward?”
Iwasdoing things backward, but I had my own reasons, and it wasn’t because I was stubborn or considered myself too good to train with the rest—quite the contrary. We all had our weaknesses, myself included, ready to be exposed if the situation arose, and it was my duty to prevent that from happening.
Neither the giant ropes nor the climbing wall caused my discomfort—though both made my toes curl. I had a small, perhaps insignificant advantage: my hands and feet were calloused enough that they wouldn’t bleed or slip. But, there was something in that arena that awoke a sickening feeling in my stomach, threatening to spill all its contents out.
I had a vulnerability, or better said, a lack of skill that promised my imminent death. I was afraid I wouldn’t overcome it just by counting on my survival instincts. A fear of heights could be defeated if a life was at stake. A fear of the dark could diminish if one’s existence was in danger. A life or death situation wouldn’t magically bestow missing abilities—it was as useless as holding a knife to someone’s throat and demanding they read, despite their illiteracy. It would be impossible, even with the natural self-preservation instinct.
With a sigh, I blinked myself back to reality. “Just do it.”
226688 tightened his eyes, head tilting, like he wanted to read something about me hovering under the surface. As soon as his fingers snapped, relief washed over me. I didn’t like being seen.
Then we plunged into the inky blackness.
When I opened my eyes, we were inside the colossal arena. My head throbbed; a stinging sensation like something had bored into my skull, and I let out a grunt, the sound amplifying in the sudden hush as I stumbled backward.
It will get worse before it gets better.
“Just how bad will this get?” I asked, my voice strained as I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers against my temples. The pain was searing, a brand against my skin.
“Worse than this. It should be over in three . . . two . . . one.”
The pain was gone, fading away like a forgotten secret in the dead of night.
I peeled my eyes open and placed a hand on my full stomach. I shouldn’t have eaten so much.
The arena was empty, but I found solace in its stillness. It gave me the opportunity to think, unburdened by distractions. My eyes scanned the area, a panorama I’d glimpsed before, with the sun chasing away the shadows of the night. Though it was strange to witness, the warmth of the day was far more inviting than the biting cold. It was always sunny in the arena.
“How is it possible that there’s sun at night? And why only here?” As the sun’s rays softly touched my skin, the words rushed out of me.
226688 sighed. “I am not allowed to say much, but to satisfy your human curiosity, the god’s creators—andenemies—live there. The sun striking at night is their way of letting us know they’re observing us.”
“Strange. We are taught that the universe gave birth to the gods, not the sun.”
He nodded, his gaze drifting away with a melancholy I couldn’t place. “That is partially true.”
Deciding not to push for more, my eyes moved to the shifting terrain.
“You said I couldn’t drown, correct? That it would eventually change to solid ground?”
“Correct,” he replied, and I let out an audible breath in relief, but then, of course, he had to talk again.
“Unless you have a panic attack and the oxygen doesn’t get to your brain, and you die before?—”
