I had no real choices. No freedom. Everything I did, every decision I made, was hers, not mine. The other day proved just that.
She didn’t care about me.
I was nothing more than her pet, her weapon of choice. But now I finally saw it clearly—the manipulation, the control, the lengths she has gone, and will go.
I was nothing more than my magic. Not a person, but a thing for her to control, no matter the cost. Always had been.
A fist cut through the air toward my face, pulling me from my thoughts, and I dropped low. Seizing their wrists, I twisted hard until bone shifted beneath my grip and a cry ripped free from their lips. The lanky female’s back arched in pain, leaving her throat exposed, and my other hand snapped forward, driving into the soft flesh. She stumbled away choking, wheezing.
The crowd's cheers around us blurred into a dull hum. I wasn’t thinking about them. I wasn’t thinking about anything but the weight in my limbs and the sharpness in my chest. I was just a thing. Not a person. Just magic and what she allowed me to have.
Movement flickered—another punch, this one connecting with the side of my cheek.
The sting cracked something open inside me, and I welcomed it. Pain meant I was still here. Still me. The second blow struck the back of my skull, sharp enough to make my vision swim. I pivoted into the haze, caught the attacker’s arm, and wrenched it behind her. A sharp pop, a scream, and she collapsed, clutching her shoulder.
Wind rushed too sharp, too clean, and the magic sliced across my cheek, drawing blood. My gaze snapped to a tall, bulky girl standing wide-eyed across the pitch, regret lining her expression. Magic wasn’t allowed in these scrimmages, and she just broke a fucking rule.
My shadows shot out, slamming into the girl’s chest, and she was launched into the crowd. Shouts of outrage followed, but I didn’t listen, didn’t care.
I turned back to face the two remaining opponents. They were recovering from my previous advances, and I sighed. I hadn’t come to win. I’d come to feel… but I was getting bored.
They ran, and I dropped, my leg sweeping through the girl on the right. She stumbled forward, and I dragged her into the path of the next blow. A fist meant for me slammed into her stomach, folding her in half. I heaved her aside, and my shoulder crashed into the second girl, driving us both into the ground.
Weight slammed at my back, the other girl recovering and pouncing like an animal. I shifted, the blow I felt coming missing me and knocking the wind out of the other beneath me. She had been thrashing, trying to get out of my hold and was now rigid and gasping for air.
I rolled free, rising in one fluid motion to face the tangled heap. They scrambled up, feral and sloppy. Strikes flew wild, and I deflected each one, answering with clean, punishing blows.
Fingers clawed at my shoulders, and I hooked her arm, dropping my weight, and flipped her flat on her back. My boot found her jaw, and her body fell limp.
Pain shot through my lower back, and I spun, snarling. I lunged, seizing both of the other girl's wrists, and forced her off balance. My heel cracked into her knee, and she stumbled backward, glaring.
I had enough. I needed to go find Lana anyway.
Lunging again, I feinted right, then twisted mid-air, landing behind her. She hesitated—her mistake. My fist met the back of her skull, and she crumpled onto the dirt.
The roar of the crowd surged back into focus as Freya glided forward, lips painted in a wicked smile. She leaned close, her whisper barely audible through the shouts. “You took your time.” Then, louder,“Our winner!”
The crowd surrounding us cheered even louder, but I couldn't care less. I scoffed, showing them all my boredom and disinterest in this game, then snared Freya’s gaze with mine. “Where is Lana?”
Freya pursed her lips at me, her expression turning into one of contempt. “I thought I saw her stalk off toward the forestearlier,” she replied somewhat reluctantly, and walked off to mediate the next fight.
The witch who cheated was on her hands and knees at the edge of the crowd, only now becoming conscious again. The people surrounding her were sneering, and it looked like she was trying to stand.
Stalking over, I kicked her in the stomach.
A strangled cry left her lips as she fell back onto the ground, and I smirked at her over my shoulder, wiping the blood from my cheek. The crowd parted for me as I approached, and I made my way through them to the field beyond.
The night sky was clear, and the stars glittered brightly overhead.
My boots dragged in the tall grass as I made my way up the small hill, gaze fixed on the sky above. The night breeze caressed my skin through my torn clothes, and I welcomed its cool touch. My hair was matted to my face with sweat, and I ran a hand through the damp strands to unstick them from my cheek. My limbs felt heavy, and I knew I should have felt sore, but my body was numb.
Sighing, I scanned the field at the top of the hill. Lana was supposed to be looking into Cynthia. We hadn’t seen her since I dropped her off in Territan four days ago. No one had heard from her, and her usual check-in was missed. It was putting me on edge. If Morgana sought her out, if she… I let out a snarl at the thought—at caring. But I did. Care. And now, because of me, maybe her life was damned too.
My gaze continued to sweep through the thick trees at the forest's edge, drifting over the hanging branches, but I saw nothing.
Cursing, I turned back toward the village, watching the distant flames, the crowd. Their cheers floated on the breeze, and that hopelessness flooded me again—the rage.
The moon cast an eerie glow across the field, and I looked back up to the vast sky and its glittering dark expanse. Taking a deep, calming breath, I crouched low, pulling at a piece of grass and chucking it aside. I eventually sat, the tall grass hiding me from the outside world as my gaze stayed fixed on the glittering expanse above.
