As we barrel forward, in between trees and shrubs and flailing competitors, I glance back over my shoulder.
Through the smallest parting in the trees, past my hair whipping at my face, I see our audience perched on their high balcony, binoculars glued to their faces as they watch us scramble. Servers weave in between them with drinks, and they’re chatting as though they’re enjoying a simple night at the theatre.
One smug-looking lord with bejewelled binoculars exchanges a fistful of Sol with another. They’re betting on us. Betting on who’ll make it out and who’ll be left behind.
My blood simmers.
I channel my anger into my legs, pushing even harder to keep up with Taron. He’s in his element now, literally. They say Lunas are stronger at night, especially under a clear moon. The Obsidian Eclipse might just be the clearest of them all.
He moves through the forest like he’s part of it, pulling on the invisible threads of gravity to twist the world around us. A flick of his wrist bends the branches blocking our path; a wave of his fingers parts the shrubs like curtains as he guides me through.
Somewhere to our left, I hear a loud crack. A branch or maybe a bone. A strangled cry follows and my heartclenches. One of the competitors is down, their partner urging them to get up, to keep moving.
But there’s no time to stop, no time to help. We’re all running for our lives, and there’s no room for weakness.
Taron and I burst from the trees on to the beach. The air is cooler here – it stings in my throat. Moonlight floods the sand, turning it into a silver blur beneath our feet, and the ocean laps obliviously at the shore, where twenty-four dinghies are lined up.
Savannah and Kara are in the lead, moving like a well-oiled machine. Savannah stops just short of the water and spins. With a stomp, she commands a wall of sand to shoot into the air, a wave of grit and dust aimed at the onslaught of competitors surging through the trees.
I see it coming, but before I can react, Taron steps in front of me. He hooks his elbow through the air and the sandstorm crashes into an invisible barrier encasing us like a dome.
“Not bad,” I heave when the sandstorm subsides and Taron lowers the barrier.
He’s quiet for a moment and, when he turns, he’s standing close, towering nearly a full head above me.
The Eclipse casts a feathery halo around his head, but his features are shadowed. He’s breathing heavily, each exhale echoing with a ragged sort of tremor – he’s trying to hide it, but he’s depleting his energy reserves.
“You’re not overextending yourself, are you?” I ask.
“I’m fine.”
We sprint across the beach towards the dinghies.Competitors are desperately lunging for them. No one is thinking clearly.
Two teams are wrestling in the water over one of the dinghies. They’re drowning each other, too distracted to notice Mei and Rhius swooping in to steal it.
My head spins as I try to make sense of the chaos. There’s no point in fighting. I can count twenty-four dinghies – one for each team. And I’m confused. Why make it so simple?
“It’s nothing personal, folks!” someone shouts, and I realize it’s Gigi. They’re standing with Gunther in front of the dinghies, and I only realize what they’re about to do when I see them brandishing their golden lighters.
One flick and flames dance through the air before gathering in the twins’ palms.
“There’s no glory without sacrifice,” Gunther says. “Let’s light ’em up!”
The twins direct their flames at a few of the dinghies around them, setting them alight in a blaze of orange and red. This can’t be fair. I want to scream. But of course, this is the nature of the game. I was a fool to expect anything less.
The fire spreads quickly across several of the dinghies, filling the air with the acrid scent of burning wood. Gigi and Gunther leap into one of the unscathed vessels, leaving the rest of us to fight over the remaining ones.
My heart is pounding so hard it might just burst out of my chest. This is way more intense than I imagined.
Fear coils inside me like a living thing, seeping through my pores and making my skin crawl. The negative energywraps around my wrists like shadowy vines, buzzing with impatience, hungry to be unleashed.
Taron and I are racing for a dinghy at the end of the line when something knots around my ankle. I barely have time to register the feeling before I’m yanked off my feet, hitting the ground hard.
Dirt and sand fill my mouth as I try to push myself up, but whatever is wrapped around my foot is relentless, and it’s dragging me backwards.
I twist, searching the firelit beach for the source. A Flora competitor steps from the surrounding woods with his hand outstretched. He’s controlling a vine, coiled like a rope around a pulley on his belt, and he’s not about to let me go.
I reach for the vine and, the moment my fingers touch it, the dark energy coiled around my arms surges forward.
