My muscles bunch, ready to do whatever I need them to. They don’t know we’re fighting for survival, but I trust them. Whether it’s a pole routine, a long ride on my bike, or a night on the couchwith Imani, laughing until my abs are screaming, this body rarely lets me down.
Riven’s voice rings around the arena. It’s flat. The melodic teasing note I’m used to hearing from him is nowhere to be found. I’m not surprised. Time spent with my father has that effect on everyone.
The gong sounds, and my magic returns to me like a warm blanket around my soul. I sink into my fighting stance. Knees slightly bent, toes aligned and facing forward, arms up.Let’s go, motherfuckers.
There are a dozen gates spaced around the arena. I eye them warily, wondering which one will usher in my new fresh hell. There’s a groan, followed by a snap, then a heinous grinding whine echoes around me as every single gate rolls up at the same time.
Gods alive and dead.I was wrong. The sun won’t factor in to this fight. I’ll be cut to pieces within thirty seconds. Fear rolls over me, and I release my wings. They turn to blades in a heartbeat, then split at the ends, icing over and morphing into something new.
Stress, fear, heartbreak... What is this? And does it even matter?
The sun flees under the horizon, and a resonant hum echoes around the arena as a faint, gray-tinged bubble snaps into place. Bright lights kick on, adding to the synthetic buzz in the air.
The ground shakes as the first monster steps into the arena, scenting the air and pawing the ground. Boxy and oversized, with spikes running the length of its back—I’ve never seen anything like it. Is there a person inside the beast, with thoughts and fears and emotions?
I’ll probably never know.
Another creature comes out to the left of the first. Longand sinuous with iridescent yellowish wings, it hisses at the spiked one, then focuses its beady eyes on me.
I force myself to take in every single opponent, even though part of me wants to shut my eyes and curl into a ball.
Two wolves emerge from the gates directly behind me. There are three hulking lions, bigger than any I’ve ever seen. A tent-sized moth with red eyes and talons. Someone who looks human but is anything but, and a handful of other opponents, all focused on me.
The crowd is eerily silent.
The arena is flat tonight. No rocks, no trees, no water—nothing but an enclosed space filled with monsters. They don’t want me to hide or strategize; I’m here to die. This will be quick, bloody, and brutal. An execution disguised as melee.
But I’ve had bad odds before.Think, Celine, think.Maybe I can take them in layers. Only two of my opponents have visible wings.
I kick off, flapping my wings and gritting my teeth from the effort. Flakes of ice fall as I gain altitude, sliding off my spiked feathers in chunks. These wings are weapons, good at slicing through flesh but not great at keeping me airborne.
I beg them to get me off the ground, and somehow, they do.
I push higher, and by the time I reach a decent hovering altitude, I’m winded. With the sword clenched in my hand, I survey the battlefield below and try to catch my breath.
As I expected, the moth and the—what the fuck is that, anyway?—take flight. The second monster is part lizard, part dragonfly, andit has muscle tone, for fuck’s sake. Its wings, all six of them, vibrate incredibly fast, making a tinny buzzing noise like a truck-sized gnat or a swarm of bees.
It flies directly at me as the moth circles, fluttering its enormous wings lazily—a confident predator on a routine hunt. The moth’s beady red eyes devour me more thoroughly than a bag oftakeout, and I have to tear my eyes away to focus on the more immediate concern: the shredded lizard-fly.
It opens its mouth, revealing hundreds of razor-sharp teeth.
“Fuck me,” I mutter. Walling off my fear, I fake an aerial lunge and swing my sword. The monster dodges the brunt of the strike, but my blade clips one membranous wing and slices it off. The lizard wobbles.Thank the gods.If I can knock out one or two more of its?—
The wing regenerates, because of course it does, unfurling with a crackle like a ball of paper being un-wadded.
Change of plans. I’ll chop its head off next and see if it’s capable of regrowing a brain.
From the corner of my eye, something flies at me. Instinct alone has me rolling to the side and bringing my wings in tight as a glob of sizzling black paste flies by. It sails into the stands, hitting an empty chair andmelting it to sludge.
Murder spit, that’s justawesome.
Screams echo from the stands, and the moth chuckles like felt drumsticks bashing against a bucket. I shiver, and the moth fucking winks at me.Creep.
The lizard-fly is circling me now, eyeing my wings speculatively as it maintains a more cautious distance. My wings look heavy because they are, and I can practically see the reptile calculating how much flight time I’ve got in me.Whatever it takes, motherfucker.
The lizard glances at the moth, and they both dive for me, teaming up. Twenty feet turns to ten, then five, and I spin, swinging the sword at the moth and bringing my wings together with a clap. The lizard flies directly into the spiked edges, and we both drop sharply from the added weight. Gritting my teeth, I thrust my wings wide again, shredding the lizard’s body, then flapping hard to regain my altitude.
It screams as it falls, but the sound cuts off when it hits the ground with a dull thud.
