We cautiously navigate around the debris, but the narrow streets are empty. The silence is broken only by the gritty sound of ash crunching beneath our boots and whispers in the wind that seem to mourn for the place.
Somewhere above, a crow’s screech pierces the stillness. The last time I heard a crow, it marked the morning my sister died.
“This place is giving me the creeps,” I mutter.
We near an open square in the centre of the village, where an obelisk juts from the ground. It’s surrounded by remnants of an old marketplace. I can tell by the splintered wood scattered across the cobblestones, some still retaining its past form as wagon wheels, and a tattered tarp that flutters in the breeze, barely clinging to a post fastened to a wall.
I can’t help but wonder. Did the Astrals conjure this place for the tournament, or did it once pulse with life? If so … what had happened here?
Then, a flash of red.
And another, in between two ruined buildings.
“Wren,” I say.
“I saw them,” he confirms.
I spin towards him as a column of sand knocks into him from the side. He falls, and I pivot, barely dodging a spear of radiant light flying past me. My hands find my head, instinctively covering myself.
Taron staggers to his feet. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah.”
As the haze from the sand settles, two figures clad in red emerge from an alley into the square. Selene and Troy. A dusting of sand hovers around Selene’s feet, ready to be shaped into a weapon or shield at a moment’s notice.
“Maeve and Wren from Moondance Haven. Not much more to say about you, is there?” Selene says, smoothing her sleek black ponytail.
Troy chimes in. “Hopefully, the Games Master can spin you a nice little story. Make it sound like you at least put up a fight before we killed you.”
I step back until I find the solid form of Taron’s body behind me. “Why are you doing this? The goal of the trial is to get to the arch.”
“Didn’t you read the scroll?” Selene spits. “Majority rules.Your team can’t win if there aren’t any greens left to cross the arch.”
“The same can be said for the red team.” Taron licks his lips. I see his fingers twitch lightly at his sides. He’s focusing his Luna talents.
In seconds, Troy is dragged, struggling, through the air towards us. He brandishes a light blade in defence, prompting Taron to sidestep to avoid a potential impaling. Despite the counter-move, however, Taron still manages to slam Troy to the ground.
A strange sensation tightens around my ankles, and looking down, I see sand enveloping my feet and crawling up, trapping me in its grip.
“Only two of us can leave this square alive, you know that,” Selene says, flexing her fingers like she’s moulding clay. I can’t break free from the sand, I realize, as she springs forward.
Taron collides with Selene in a bone-crushingthumpthat sends both of them sprawling. Selene retaliates by trapping Taron in a shell of sand, but he defies the constraints, shattering the granules.
“Oh, youareannoying,” she bites out.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” As Taron pulls the dagger from his belt sheath and lunges at Selene, I grab my fern shears from my boot and start hacking at the sand to free myself. Something moves in my peripheral vision. Troy is approaching.
No sooner do I break free from the sand than I have to dodge his blade of light, aimed directly at my face. My instinct is to tap into the well of my fears and anxieties, shaping them into a whip that lashes itself around his foot.
I yank on it, and he tumbles. Then I’m sprinting to where Taron and Selene are fighting among the remnants of a wooden cart.
As I run, a warm sensation grazes my arm. It starts as a wet, numb feeling, then a blade of light zips past me and panic sets in. The warmth transforms into searing pain. I’ve been cut.
My heel snags on the ground. I fall. Three more blades fly overhead, only narrowly missing me. I grip my upper arm. Blood is already soaking through my uniform.
This is real. I could die.
“You’re lucky – that was a close call.” Troy approaches, and I scramble back on the ground. He grabs me by the foot and drags me towards him. “Though I’m afraid your luck’s about to run out.”
