Riven raises his arms. “She wants to see her opponent. Shall we oblige her?”
The crowd cheers loudly; they appreciate her spirit.
After a flick of his hand, a metallic groan echoes from the opposite end of the arena.
A massive door rolls up, revealing thick calves attached to trunk-like thighs. Bare-chested, the male’s hair is buzzed on one side and matted on the other. The wild yellow eyes and trembling hands tell me immediately that Celine is facing a shifter. One struggling with control.
She stares at him, then strides to the weapons’ boulder and selects a longsword.
It’s gigantic.
Nearly as tall as her.
The crowd jeers. They think she’s too small to handle the weight of the folded, double-edged blade. It will be exhausting, even for Celine, but she needs reach to fight an animal. While there are a few visible bows and arrows in the armory, if this shifter has a thick hide or natural armor, they won’t be enough.
The shifter leers at Celine, licks his lips, then glances eagerly at Riven.
“Fighters, at your ready,” Riven shouts. “In three-two-one!” He brings his arm down, slicing through the air like a blade.
The shifter sprints toward Celine with no hesitation.
He runs up a slanted boulder wedged in the sand and leaps from the tip, transforming into a thing of nightmares. Two legs become four as he shifts into a horse and rider—entirely enmeshed and missing the external layer.
From the torso up, he’s a man, except his skin is marbled pink and white, the exposed muscle and bone connected by a network of throbbing blue veins.
Both heads jerk back, mouths wide open as they spew a thick, yellow-tinged smoke into the air. The crowd goes wild as the horse and rider scream in sync.
I look to the nearest tube for answers.
Luca is pounding against the magical barrier. His mouth moves, but no sound escapes the cage. Celine can’t hear him or the warnings he’s trying to give her. Luca realizes this and begins to pantomime, covering his mouth with one hand and squeezing his throat with the other.
Poison. He’s trying to tell her the yellow cloud is toxic.
Celine retreats, ignoring the boos from the stands and keeping the enraged horse and rider in front of her. She glances at Luca, then nods, yanking her shirt over her head and tying it over her mouth and nose.
I hope it’s enough.
Next, her wings shoot from her back; the feathers turning to blades that gleam in the light.
The monster circles her, galloping in a wide circle while spreading the yellow poison cloud around the arena. His hooves turn the sand black. Melting bits of ice sizzle and boil in his wake.
I press my palms against the barrier. He’s trying to smoke her out and incapacitate her before the fight can even begin.
This battle has no honor.
Be creative, my truth.
Celine studies the sizzling ground as the noxious cloud gets thicker by the second. Then she looks at the four of us, her gaze moving from left to right. When she pulls her focus away from us, I know she’s made her decision.
Her wings spark, tongues of fire running along the edges of each blade.
The shifter completes another lap.
Celine watches intently, her head bobbing in time with his hooves.Is she tracking his rhythm?There’s no way she can see him through the thickness of the yellow smoke anymore, but I doubt he can see her either.
Her eyes dart to a nearby elevated rock, and my heart leaps into my throat. I know what her plan is. She’s counting on his speed staying the same. It’s a risk—calculated—but tremendous. If he slows down or if she mistimes her attack, she’ll be trampled.
Celine waits for the horse and rider to disappear behind a thick tree and takes off, picking up speed even as her feet sink into the sand. She climbs the rock, raises the sword above her head, and springs into the air at the exact moment the shifter passes her position.
