ã€ŠWe Non Human Thingsã€‹


 Chapter 1

    His was a death for sand and stone and not much else.

    I drop the blood smeared knife next to the mangled corpse. The crowd cheers. I used to hate their screams, but that has faded. Now they¡¯re just the background noise of death. It fills the arena, deafens the keen hears, travels up the spiraling motion of the tower. A tower that protrudes into the skyline, its rigid form rising even above the walls that enclose the city. The beams of the midday sun light up the red sprinkles in the sand, making the dried blood look like specks of rust.

    My hand extends, fingers morphing into claws. Gently I place three on the temple of the stiff body beneath me. The man¡¯s dead eyes have become murky and unfocused. I run my fingers down his face, close his eyes, pressing just enough to draw blood. Three lines, wounds that will never heal, remain.

    Metal chains rattle, almost inaudible between the crowds¡¯ cheers, and the bars lift from the arena entrance. The hallway on the other side is dark, the sounds from outside muted. Behind me, the lifeless body of yet another shifter gets dragged away. Along the walls solitary guards are posted, their helms reflecting the dancing of candles, standing there for no other purpose than tradition. The way leads up a set of stairs, its walls curving slightly. It opens into a wide chamber, the floors covered in finely woven carpets. The darkness gives way to a comfortable dim light, it smells of cedar wood. Drying blood is falling of my hands in chips.

    In the middle of the room sit a man and woman, across from each other, their voices filled with the sweetness of concealed hate. The man is in his late forties, small and stocky, amber eyes that dart abound the room like a hawk, restless. The woman is in her early seventies, tall and lanky, her movement just a bit to trained to be elegant.

    I step behind the man, head lowered. ¡°Master¡±, I say.

    He glances in my direction: ¡°You did well but next time stretch it a bit. I promised at least 15 minutes of fighting¡±. His attention shifts to the woman once more: ¡°Your company was much appreciated but I must shift my focus to other matters. I hope we will find an opportunity to continue our conversation soon. Until then please reconsider my offer.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for your time as well, Niilan¡±. She looks me up and down: ¡°You always surprise me child. I thought this one would kill you for sure. How much?¡±

    ¡°Not for sale¡±, Niilan sais.

    She shrugs: ¡°One day¡­¡± And with that she leaves.

    Outside the arena the square is filled with life. Children running around, loud, screaming, merchants selling goods to the crowd of humans not able to afford entry or who have gathered to watch the champions enter and exit. Carriages line the road, covered in gold emblems from top to bottom, dazzling in the sun. I open a carriages door, Niilan enters, I follow. From the street, people stare, cheer or curse at me. Niilans grin, frozen onto his face, becomes more and more genuine as the crowd begins to gather. Reveling in the attention. ¡°Back to the mansion¡±, he says, ¡°and take your time¡±. I whisper the same in our language, too inaudible for Niilan to catch. The horse, a massive rust colored beast, two markings on its neck, twitches its ears and the carriage begins to move.

    The mansion is old. Stone walls and dark wood, as if the evolving city had missed this pocket of land. A place frozen in time. A servant, young and skittish, two round markings on her neck as well, opens the doors. Behind me, long out of my field of vision, the horses form begins to morph and shrink.

    The foyer is big. It¡¯s the beginning of an extensive maze of chambers and halls in a city that ran out of space long ago. Dark oak panels cover the walls, detailed carvings all along them. Niilan, head turned, is giving orders. My fingers trace over the reliefs, the wood polished by the hundreds of hands that had ran along the same scenes. I grip a little ledge and push. The door to the servants¡¯ corridors swings open. The inside is different, no polished wood nor golden light. The walls are rough stone, hallway pitch-black. Narrow. A maze only familiar to those already doomed. In one hallway just like all the others, a stairway leads down. Here the walls are carved, fast and without care. At the bottom, behind a door, candles light the space once more. On other days these rooms would be filled with the chatting, laughing, swearing and the banging of training sword against training sword. But now even the whispers go silent as I enter. A woman, older than most of us down here, short spiky hair, follows my every move out of the corner of her eye. She¡¯s bad at concealing her spite.

    In the back of the sleeping chambre is a small closet. As I undress and begin to wash off all the blood and sand still stuck to my body the water swaps sluggishly against the edge of the barrel. When I¡¯m finally done, it has turned a pale red. I comb my hair with my hands, untangling the braids, letting each wisp fall thru my fingers. It takes long to open all of them, and I only untangle half before I hear knocking on the door. I hastily put on my training clothes. On the other side stands a man. Young to the age where, was he one of the master¡¯s he¡¯d only now start to be seen as one. He has warm brown skin and an eye that seems to draw you in and make you feel safe and protected. A scar splits where his other eye once must have been, running from his temple down to the collarbone.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°Enya¡±, I say.

    ¡°Thank the protector you¡¯re finally back. We have a problem¡­ well you specifically have one. Come¡±

    He turns and starts walking. I follow

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Niilan bought a new fighter and the boy¡¯s not taking it too well¡±

    I hear steppes as the spiky haired woman as she trains behind us: ¡°Fuck it if he¡¯s taking it well or not. You left out the important part: That kids a wildling! And you better make sure that monster doesn¡¯t get us all killed!¡±

    I make my eyes smile: ¡°Thanks for telling me, Alinta. I will deal with it¡±. I lean forward and add in a quiet tone: ¡°and you leave the kid in peace¡±. I can¡¯t see her face as she falls behind, cannot see the strange mixture of terror and anger that has taken hold of it.

    The hallway we follow extends longer than it should have, winding on even after the few doors and all have been connected. Bare walls, built by folly, for a dream much bigger than reality. Now it¡¯s filled with screams. One after another, growing louder and louder. They pierce the air, high-pitched notes getting thrown back form the walls again and again until the sound is so distorted you couldn¡¯t have guessed what it was at the start. They¡¯re screams full of pain and fear. I open the door.

    The room¡¯s dimly lit. In one corner, almost obscured by shadows, a small form cowers, hands and feet tied together, neck chained to the wall with a silver shackle. On the boy¡¯s upper back are three round wounds, swollen and full of barely dried blood. His eyes dart around the room with no sense behind their movement, pupils that grow then shrink, as if they¡¯re pulsating. Hair, reddish and dirty, has fallen into his face. He screams.

    The spine of his slim fragile body begins to twist. His arms shorten, his skin tears apart where feathers begin to sprout, his face becomes long, the eyes round and small, the mouth is a mix between a humans and a bird¡¯s beak. His screams blend with the screech of a crow. Then the sliver shackle begins to shine, a cold white light engulfs the room, pulsates, becomes bright before slowly dimming once more. The screeching had gotten louder before turning back to screaming. When the light fades, all that is left is a boy cowering. He sobs, thrashes forward. The sobs die in his throat as the shackle yanks him back. His form flairs, expands, shrinks, mouse ears and fur can be seen for a split second before the room is drenched in cold light again.

    He¡¯s like you, don¡¯t you think? No. The others in the room, two men alongside Enya, have backed away, almost snarling, their eyes filled with fear, darting form the boy to me and back again.

    ?Enya. Can you please take everyone outside? That boy needs some quiet?, I say. It¡¯s been a while since I had to concentrate to not let my uneasiness show. Enya nods. The men¡¯s eyes glair at us one last time, then the door shuts. White light flashes. The boy screams. Gently I kneel before him.

    The boy winces and pulls away, back pressed against the wall, eyes staring at me. I extend my hand, mirroring his posture from before and change my finger into claws.

    ?We¡¯re all just like you?

    The boys¡¯ eyes are glued on to my fingertips. With a snap I turn them back.

    The white flashes have stopped. The screams too. Now the only thing left is his small frame, pressed against the wall, eyes filled with fury and desperation and no way of letting it out.

    ¡°Whats your name?¡±

    ¡°Kara¡±

    ?Do the markings still hurt? ?

    He nods, more out of defiance than anything else.

    ?I will get some water and alcohol to clean them. And blankets. Please wait?

    When I come back, he¡¯s slumped down, a rolled-up ball on the dirty uneven stone floor. I close the door gently. He shoots up, panic in his eyes. I don¡¯t react, just sit next to him, roll out a blanket and drape it over his shoulders. He looks so fragile all of a sudden.

    ?I need to clean the marks or else they¡¯ll get infected. Is that okay?? I ask it the way I¡¯ve seen the mothers at the market comforting their children. Stop fooling him. He stares at me, for a moment it seems like he¡¯s lulled in, but then he shakes his head franticly, pressing against the wall even stronger.

    ?No! ? His voice is hoarsed from all the screaming.

    ?Okay, then try to sleep. I will come back later and bring some food?

 Chapter 2

    The candles are all extinguished. It¡¯s pitch black and even with transformed eyes you can¡¯t make out more than silhouettes. The sleeping chambre is filled with the snoring of a dozen shifters. I like the darkness. It¡¯s a blanket wrapping itself around you, hiding you, protecting you. I cherish those few hours I can spend alone with it, before, finally, having to enter the world of warped memories and unmoving gray eyes as well.

    The hallway is dark, my hand traces over the sharp edges of the wall to find the way. With my right I pocket the keys hanging from the wall next to the entry.

    Two eyes stair back at me form the pitch black as I open the door, its creaking sounds unnaturally loud midst all the silence. I light the candles. One by one the darkness gets pushed back. In the flickering light you can see the boy¡¯s cradle.

    ¡°You¡¯re awake¡±, I say.

    ¡°Of course I am¡± his voice grows shrill when he¡¯s angry, ¡°how could I not be, when chained to a wall?!¡±

    I place a half-filled bowl with porridge in front of him.

    ¡°From tomorrow on they will get you your own portions. But for now, eat. You must be hungry¡±, I speak soft.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that! You think you¡¯re some beneficiary or what?¡±

    I pull out the keys, unlock the shackles from his feet. He yanks them back, startled.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re the master¡¯s favorite! That spiky haired woman told me. What did you do? Grovel at his feet until he paid attention?!¡±

    No.

    I look up, unlock his hand shackles. He stares at me, all the fear, anger and uncertainty finally bursting out of him.

    ¡°How can all of you act like this?! Eating shit, falling over yourself¡­ ¡­KILLING ONEANOTHER to please them. How can they look at me with more fear than they do at them?!¡±

    I pick up the food and water, put it down at the backside wall. Then I walk up to him. Did I look the same when I first arrived? No.

    ¡°Tell me: do you want to live?¡±, I ask.

    ¡°What kind of question is that? Of course I do.¡±

    ¡°Then learn how to control your ego. You want the fighters and servants to fear you, to hate you: Fine. But if any of the masters ever do, you are dead.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill them.¡±

    ¡°You think you are that powerful?¡± My voice has become cold. I unchain the silver shackle for the wall. The boy stumbles forward. ¡°Then show me.¡±

    There¡¯s no hesitation. Kara catches himself mid stumble, using the motion forward as he thrashes towards me. He¡¯s eyes are fixed on my legs, trying to bring me to fall. I dodge, catch him off balance. My kick sends him flying full force against the nearest wall. His eyes grow wide as the air is pressed out of his lungs. He slides down, clenches his fists.

    The room lights up as his fingers, for but a second, resemble claws. I thrash towards him, aiming for his throat. Instinctively his arms shoot up. I grab his wrist, twist it behind his back, push him towards the ground. He screams in pain.

    ¡°Have I proven my point?¡±

    ¡°Fuck off¡±

    I twist more. He screams. The same hoarse scream that had filled the room hours before.

    ?Okay okay?

    I loosen my grip and take a step back.

    The boy¡¯s panting. His eyes, for the first time since I entered this room, don¡¯t stair at me but are fixed on the ground. He almost seems embarrassed.

    ?If it wasn¡¯t for the stupid shackle I could¡¯ve won.?

    ?Because Niilan won¡¯t shackle you again the moment you disobey him?

    ¡°They take it off?¡±

    ¡°If you behave. Still not hungry??

    He grabs the bowl with both his hands.

    The boy eats as if the food might disappear at any moment. He gulps down the last bits of food and looks up: ¡°That tasted terrible¡±.

    ¡°You will have to get used to it. Not much variety in the food down here¡±.

    ¡°I miss the fresh meat already¡±

    ¡°Not sure if I know how it tastes anymore¡­¡±. He gowns. ¡°¡­ although I suppose we are the lucky ones¡±

    ¡°How can THAT be considered lucky?¡±

    ¡°I doubt any of the others ever tried it. But you can ask them tomorrow¡±

    He opens his mouth, wanting to ask further, but I¡¯m faster: ¡°Your marks need to get cleaned. Can you do it yourself or should I?¡±

    He goes quiet for some time: ¡°Fine. Just be quick.¡±. How kind.

    A long time ago, somewhere in a dimly lit room, a girl was tied down on a table. Hair falling over her neck and covering parts of her back as she laid there, stiff as a corps, a paralyzing fear having taken over every fiber of her meager, skinny body. The little girl was used to fear, she had felt it often in her short life. But this deep-rooted, existential terror that makes you lose your sanity she only ever felt once before. Now she was experiencing it a second time. Frozen in place her body moved non the less, beginning to shake and scream and cry, breaking down under the shackles that held her in place. For most of this day and the days prior she had kept quiet, just as she was expected to do. She didn¡¯t fight as they made them walk into the big dark tunnel thru the giant walls that enclosed this city. She didn¡¯t fight when they sold her off like cattle. She didn¡¯t fight when she was dragged off, leaving her all alone in a foreign place with a stranger that she was expected to call master. She didn¡¯t even fight as they dragged her into this room and tied her down. Fighting is useless if you can¡¯t win. But once the candles where lit and the silver had begun to melt something primal took over. An instinct, half forgotten by time, filled her with an indescribable panic, commanding her body to fight or run, to make it stop. But of course, it was of no use, what could a little, half-starved, and tied down girl possibly do. There was no way she would win even without the silvern shackles that prohibited her from transforming. A cold, soft hand brushed over her neck and, with one stroke, swept away her coalblack hair leaving both her neck and back exposed. Her little, pitiful form tried to rare up once more, making her spine stand out under her skin like a trapped snake. Only then she felt the knife on her neck, puncturing first her skin and then cutting thru muscles and sinews. The pain built up with every new cut, towering over her like a giant wall. The room, almost dark before, was now drenched in a smothered red color. The light glowing, no, radiating and getting brighter with every lost drop of blood that gushed out of her wounds. The knife cut deeper and deeper, but by some magic never hitting bone. Maybe the pain had begun to numb by the time he came with the molten silver. With an almost self-satisfied joy in his eyes, the man poured the metal into her wounds, the stench of burned flesh filling the room within seconds. The last moments she could remember were filled with an unbearable, all-consuming pain, then she gave in and the world around her turned dark.

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    The marks are round, no bigger than the palm of a hand. Lines of silver can be seen thru the burns and cuts. A spiderweb shimmering in the light of the candles. Burned flakes of skin and dried blood stick to the wet towel. Kara flinches every time it touches the marks.

    His back and neck are swollen. Fresh blood is leaking from the cracks: the injuries must have reopened during the fight. Between all the shades of brown, the bright red seems strangely out of place.

    ¡°What the fuck do they even do?¡±, he asks eventually.

    ¡°They have different purposes. The upper one, where they poured the silver in, lets them control our bodies¡±

    ¡°Control our bodies, like that red light and then you can¡¯t breathe?¡±

    ¡°Yes. And more. One command from Niilan and your body obeys. Did you try to flee?¡±

    ¡°No. I attacked¡±

    ¡°Of course you did...¡±

    ¡°How do I get rid of it? The mark?¡±

    ¡°You do not. Enough tried¡±

    Kara goes silent, his blank eyes staring forward at the candles lining the wall. He, for the first time, reminds me of those I had to mentor before, the children of which the blood-soaked sand in the arena is all that¡¯s left of them. The candles flicker, brighten, dim, and brighten again, toying with the shadows, never letting them rest.

    ¡°Shit¡­ ¡­that¡¯s bad. How¡¯s that even plausible?¡±

    I shrug: ¡°They only partially understand it themselves. Some remnants of magic connected to silver.¡±

    ¡°They sure love their silver, don¡¯t they¡±.

    ¡°It is what keeps their empire running.¡±

    ¡°Why do the others only have two marks, but I got three?¡±

    ¡°The other two are used for identification. The first tells them you are a fighter in the arena.¡±

    ¡°You mean it tells them we¡¯re murderers¡±

    ¡°They do not see it that way. It¡¯s only murder if a human dies¡±

    ¡°Sure. How much time before they make me killer then?¡±

    ¡°A bit. You need to learn how to fight first¡±

    ¡°I can fight¡±

    ¡°No. You can hunt¡±

    ¡°¡­whatever¡±

    ¡°The last mark tells them you are a wildling¡±

    ¡°Wildling?¡±

    ¡°The name for those not born in captivity. Not a lot of us left.¡±

    ¡°Us?!¡±

    Hair, long and black, falls to the side as I tilt my head, showing what I prefer to keep covered up.

    They¡¯re the same as Karas, three round marks down my spine, healed. A scar, one of the dozens that cover my body, splits the last mark in two.

    ¡°So that¡¯s why they waited for you. The way they staired¡­ why do they hate us so much?¡±

    ¡°They have their reasons¡±

    ¡°Which are?!¡±

    ¡°If a shifter is expose to a lot of silver and it stops them from transforming. A small amount simply weakens it. The same goes for the silver in our marks. It is not enough to be noticeable but for those who have been captive for generations and generations, it accumulates, muddles their control. It mostly does not matter, but for fighters, where split-second are of importance, it does make a difference. That is why they are willing to put up with the risks.¡±

    ¡°Risks?¡±

    ¡°Those born in captivity usually do not¡­ struggle. Why fight against something when that is the only thing there is. But it is harder for those who have known freedom. They, we, are dangerous. It is a miracle Niilan only locked you up¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t chain everyone to the wall at first?¡±

    ¡°Not if they do not attack everything that moves. This is his torture room.¡±

    ¡°Fuck. You were here too then? In the beginning?¡±

    ¡°No. I did not fight.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡±

    ¡°My mentor Mykiel was a wildling too. He was always¡­ easily angered, and one nigh he just snapped. Nine fighters and four servants died before Niilan got down here. I have never seen him so angry. Mykiels screams echoed thru the chambers for days before he finally died¡±.

    ¡°Will that happen to me too?¡±

    ¡°No¡±

    ¡°And how would you know?!¡±

    ¡°I do. I won¡¯t let them¡±, I reach out for the metal key, ¡°You have to put the shackle back on until tomorrow¡±.

    He scoffs.

    ¡°Try to get some sleep¡±

    At night the training room is nothing more than a big carved out cavity, full of darkness and the smell of stale sweat. On the left wall are rows and rows of wooden weapons, the stands barely visible even to those who know their location. I reach out for a dagger, balance it in my hand. I sometimes wonder when this room went from something loathed, a testament of all the reason why to hate them, to a place of solace. With one flowing motion I toss a dagger towards a wooden man on the other side of the room. A quiet thud echoes thru the chamber. No blood nor screams can come from a doll.

    When I jolt awake the next morning I feel nauseous. Nestling my face between my arms, I turn around in the straw. It seems strangly pointy. It¡¯s late in the morning so the room it almost empty, nothing but boxed of sections filled with straw and bits of fabrics too small to be used otherwise. The beams are old, splintered off wood with carved in symbols layered over each other, reminders of moments forgotten, and people long gone. On one of the beams, at my feet, stand two bowls of porridge, untouched. Next to them sits Enya, lost in thought, wooden spoon scraping in an empty bowl. I get up, grab both portions next to him. He flinches: ¡°Awake?¡±

    ¡°Why did you wait?¡±

    ¡°You know, I¡¯ve always been impressed by how you¡¯re able to let your food just lye around¡±

    ¡°Monster perks. You know Niilan always says it is better to be feared than respected.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t act like you two are the same.¡±

    ¡°I hope not. It would be a bit awkward if they kept humans down here.¡±

    He sighs and grins at the same time: ¡°For the love of the protector, stop twisting every word that comes out of my mouth¡±

    ¡°So tell me what it is you want.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s something I¡¯ve been thinking about. The new kid and Aary, we could train them together. She needs someone else to look at her progress. And well, we¡¯d have a lot more time for training ourselves too¡±

    ¡°Why ask me?¡±

    ¡°Look. I know I seem to be the only one. But what happened¡­ it wasn¡¯t you, nor that new boy. Mykiel killed them, and he died for it. We all heard him well enough¡±

    I raise an eyebrow.

    ¡°¡­and even if you snapped, it wouldn¡¯t matter if we trained together or not.¡±

    ¡°What did Aary say?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t asked her yet. But I can¡¯t imagine her having a problem with it. She hasn¡¯t been a fighter long enough to know why¡±

    ¡°Talk to her. I will ask to Kara. If both agree to it, I don¡¯t mind¡±

    He boyish smile plays around his lips as he leans back: ¡°The boy, Kara in that case, right? He seems to be fine. I¡¯ve checked on him earlier. Not gonna lie, I¡¯ve prepared myself for a couple of loud sleepless nights when they first brought him in.¡±

    ¡°He is scared. But I think he might have a chance¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t heard you say that for at least two years. And about a wildling too. Must be an impressive boy¡±

 Chapter 3

    The two children are training like they have done for the last week, in a room that is just big enough for it not to be called cramped. ¡°Fuck¡±: Kara glares down at a dagger still slightly rocking back and forth. Next to it, another ten lie, a path of failure from the cursing boy to the training target. Another dagger, the first to hit its intended place, impacts, its flightpath mere inches from Karas face. He spins around: ¡°Oh fuck you!¡±. Aary smiles, the way she always does, gentle, perfectly trained, never reaching her eyes. They¡¯re broken, emerald green. She won¡¯t last half a year.Kara thrashes towards her: ¡°Don¡¯t be so cocky¡±. She dodges, barely, kicking the boy in the back of his knee. He tumbles, reaches out mid fall, sweeps the surprised girl form her feet. Both fall with a thud. Kara laughs. Aary giggles, then gets up, extending her hand to help the boy up as well.

    ¡°Aary, practice transformations once you feel confident hitting the target. And remember, it doesn¡¯t matter who falls first if you let your guard down afterwards¡±, I say. She nods, smiles, and turns. ¡°And you, Kara, come here, and bring one of those daggers¡±. The boy sighs, dragging his feet with every step he takes. I wait.

    ¡°What!?¡±, he says.

    ¡°Do you want to live?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡±

    ¡°Then why are you trying to avoid learning how to so desperately?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not. It isn¡¯t my fault these things are so poorly balanced.¡±

    ¡°No. But it is your fault for refusing to learn how to deal with that. Hold out that knife¡±

    He does, extending the dagger in his hand like an alien object.

    ¡°Now slowly move as if you¡¯d throw it¡±, I say. It¡¯s an awkward, lanky movement, but for the first time he¡¯s genuinely trying.

    ¡°It feels so st¡­?, he gets interrupted by knocking on the door.

    It opens but a crack: ¡°549 Njra¡±. I stand up, glance over the room to Enya, then I follow the servant. Behind me, thru the hallway, I can hear Enya continuing the kids training. The servant¡¯s face is unfamiliar, maybe a new acquisition. It¡¯s funny, really, how we shifters cling to one appearance. It seems so much like such a human sentiment. Up in the main building the man leaves in a different direction. I know where to go without him. I follow the winding, narrow hallways until I emerge across a massive wooden door so heavy, the notion of it opening them seems strange. Even now, so many years later, I still have to fight my instincts each time I stand in front of that door. I focus on my breathing, make a few adjustments to my body, the way he likes it to be, then I enter, pulling the door open just wide enough for me to slip thru.

    The room has two small stain glass windows. Niilan sits draped over an armchair; his eyes fixated on something outside. A corrupted world, parts of the gray buildings painted in blue, the rest of the sky drenched in red. His head turns slightly as I enter, glances at me, taps on his lap, then goes back to studying whatever thing outside has caught his attention. I walk over, sit where I¡¯m told, nestle my head between his head and shoulders. Outside the window, a crow flies by, tainted red by the window glass. Niilan lays his hands around my waist. Small stocky fingers press against my skin, move on. They leave a crawling sensation long after his hands have left. Break them. There was an incident, just a few months after I came here, desperately tried to be kept secret, but rumors spread fast in a place like this. They say, one morning one of the servants, quite a trusted one at that, found the corpse of Niilan¡¯s wife on his bed, busied and strangled in a fit of rage. The savant had disappeared by nightfall of course, but by then, it was already too late. The wife¡¯s funeral was held in a close circle just days later. Their child, only 15 themself when it happened, left the next day. All that is left now is a carving on Niilans nightstand. I wondered if it is a human thing. Wanting to fossilize everything. People, Places, even moments, do they not realize that it does not preserve memories but only their lifeless shell.

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    I think about that dead woman often, although I can¡¯t put a face to that distant memory of a voice anymore. Niilan leans his head onto my color bone: ¡°I swear by the legacy of the protector and all that is powerful, that woman will drive me insane.¡±  I play with his hair, stair out the window to the mountains barely visible behind the walls: ¡°May I ask who?¡±

    ¡°Maryln¡±

    ¡°The one from a week ago. At the arena?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a clever one. Yes, that old hag. I don¡¯t know why but she won¡¯t stop trying to steal all my fighting spots. I wanted to let Enya or maybe you fight next week, and I went to check for the date, just a formality, and they told it the timeslot was already reserved by her¡±

    ¡°That must be frustrating¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ but the way she does it is the worst parts. Rubbing salt in the wound doesn¡¯t even describe it¡±

    Poor thing.

    ¡°She seemed like that, even last time, but¡­¡± and I lift up his chin, make myself look smaller, ¡°she doesn¡¯t stand a chance against you¡±. My lips curl up, the same faint gentle smile Aarys has as well. Niilan places his finger on my sternum, traces it up to my throat: ¡°I always loved those gray eyes of yours you know. They¡¯re so boring. All the colors to choose form, and that small girl chose the color of pavement. Any updates on the boy I sent?¡±

    ¡°I was a bit surprised to see one like me, but other than that, he¡¯s doing rather well¡±

    ¡°I know I said I won¡¯t give you any trainees anymore, but I knew you wouldn¡¯t mind. Plus, he needs your handling, I swear if I didn¡¯t pay a fortune, I would have killed him myself. That brat attacked one of the guards escorting him. While I was there no less!¡±

    I open my eyes in feigned shock, go silent for a bit, glance down, nod: ¡°May I speak my mind?¡±

    ¡°Go on¡±

    ¡°He was, sometimes still is... difficult. But he is talented in transforming, and smart. He will learn to listen¡±

    ¡°If you say so. But it better be true¡±

    We stay like this for a while, a master and his doll, where the only words spoken are those to sooth his ego. And in between, guided by threads invisible to everyone but me, he talks about lists and times of next month¡¯s fights, the whispered names of opponents not yet officially know. His hands keep caressing my body as if to remind himself to whom I belong. Then, as the sun has set and the colored shards of light sprinkling the floor have vanished, he picks me up, carries me over to the bed where once a dead woman had lain. I make my mind go blank.

    It¡¯s late. My head is pressed against the uneven wall of the training chambre, the darkness an impenetrable barrier. The wall is cold, my skin numb. I press against it even stronger, as if the cold could freeze my thoughts as well. Closing my eyes I wait, wait until the pain in my body becomes numb, until my breathing has slowed. Then I get up, hectic. I jump, transform, faster, higher, revel in the feeling of bone, flesh and skin being ripped apart and mended anew, again and again, until the pain of the transformations finally does what the cold could not. Tonight, I won¡¯t sleep.

 Chapter 4

    In the morning I go back to the others. Enya, Aary and Kara sit together in a circle on top the wooden beams: Aary and Enya chatting whilst is Kara staring into the distance with eyes that could kill gods if they gave him a reason to. Aary is the first to spot me and smiles. Enya glances over, waves, grabs the fourth bowl, and holds it out towards me. I grab it, sit down. Kara breaks eye contact with whatever wall he held his staring contest: ¡°Where were you?¡±

    ¡°Training chambre. You guys are robbing me of my normal training hours¡±. I glance down at my bowl, and at the massive chunk missing.

    ¡°Yeah, I tried a bite, hope you don¡¯t mind¡±, Kara says, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

    ¡°How did it taste?¡±

    ¡°The same as mine¡±

    I give him a defeated look.

    Kara grins, turns around to Aary, his own empty bowl in hand: ¡°I haven¡¯t tried yours yet. Maybe that one¡¯s different¡±. Aary smiles her lovely, empty simile, moments before she has to jump up to avoid Karas hands grasping for the bowl.

    ¡°Come on, just a tiny bit!¡±

    Aary sticks her tongue out.

    As the two begin to bicker, Enya looks at me: ¡°I¡¯ll take them today¡±, and after a while, eyes down, ¡°Did you sleep?¡±

    ¡°In the training chambre yes¡± Liar.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t miss much yesterday. Kara still struggles with weapon fighting. Later we did transformation, which he¡¯s great at. Well to the surprise of no one. But Aary worries me. She¡¯s good with the weapons, really, she picks it up incredibly fast, but the transformation, she can¡¯t even do the basics.¡±

    ¡°Were you not the same though?¡±

    ¡°And the protector knows how much I still hate the transformations. When I see you fighting, I wonder how I ever though I could build my fighting style around that too. I don¡¯t say she has to fight like you, or the way Kara will inevitably do. I can teach her my tactics, but she¡¯ll have to learn the basics at some point.¡±

    ¡°We can look at it together. And at Kara¡¯s everything weapon related¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not gonna eat?¡± the boy chimes in ¡°and also my weapon fighting isn¡¯t that bad¡±

    ¡°Tell that to the target. And no, I will keep it until midday¡±

    ¡°Well suit yourself?. He puts down his bowl and chases Aary out of the room. Alinta glares after the boy as they leave.

    I turn to Enya: ¡°You have a fight in three days¡±

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    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°399¡±

    ¡°Should be fine¡±

    Kara jumps, within seconds his form shrinks, feathers sprout, wings expand instead of arms. For a bit, the bird hovers in the air, then it plumets down, a boy landing in the place a crow should have hit the floor. He looks up, grins: ¡°How long?¡±

    ¡°20¡±

    ¡°New record here I go!¡±, he spins to shout something to Aarys before freezing mid turn.

    Aary is curled up beside Enya, shaking: ¡°I hurts, I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t¡­. I just ¡­.¡±

    Kara can¡¯t look at her. Scrawny frame with pricing black eyes, unkempt red hair. Fragile.

    ¡°Can we talk?¡± he says, ¡°Please.¡±

    The hallway is empty, candles flickering, dancing to a tune only they themselves can hear. We stop at the last chambre in the hallway. Inside it¡¯s cold and stingy, the iron shackles and hay on the floor bring back memories neither of us care to recall.

    As I close the door Kara almost seems to crumble, more falling than sitting down: ¡°Do you think Aary will hate me?¡±

    ¡°Have you done something that deserves being hated for?¡±

    ¡°I... Alinta said that Aary will find out eventually.¡±

    ¡°Find out what?¡±

    ¡°Monsters like us can¡¯t fool them forever¡­ and¡­ what if she¡¯s right you know. Who knows I could turn on everyone in an instant¡­ It happened before right. So why would we be any different?¡±

    ¡°Kara. Look at me¡±

    He obeys, hesitant.

    ¡°Those things don¡¯t just happen. It is a choice. You will have to fight against it every day. But you are strong. Alinta is a scared, and scared people lash out. You do not have to take what she said to heart. You will not hurt Aary.¡±

    He nods. I lay my arm around him, press the boy against me as he curls up in my lab. My skin is crawling. And like this we remain, until Karas breathing has calmed and the candles have burnt low. I rest my head on the wall, struggling to keep my eyes open as the darkness begins to expand. I gently lift his head and stand up, transforming to ensure I don¡¯t wake him up as I exit.

    In the sleeping chambre, talking to a man, I find who I¡¯ve been looking for.

    I don¡¯t have to say anything. My presence is enough to make him hurry out of the room, apologetic expression on his face.

    Alinta has shot up as well, glaring at me with so much hate.

    ¡°Talk about me all you want. But you will leave that boy out if it¡±, I say.

    ¡°You won¡¯t tell what to do! Who do you think you are?! Just because you¡¯re the master¡¯s newest obsession. But you can¡¯t fool us. Everybody know it¡¯s only a matter of time before both of you end up like Mikyel.¡±

    ¡°He is dead. Let it rest.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to forget Riella. And I won¡¯t let you either!¡±

    ¡°If that boy snaps, it is going to be because of you.¡±

    ¡°Look at you so eager to threaten!¡±

    ¡°I was not threatening.¡± I place my hand on her cheek, brush away a strain of hair: ¡°But remember: One word from me and your next fight will be against an arena master.¡±

    For once that righteous expression is wiped off her face.

    ¡°Leave the boy in peace. Next time I won¡¯ ask.¡±

 Chapter 5

    The clattering of hooves and the sporadically creaking of wheels bleed into my subconscious, take on new forms. Around us houses roll by in a slow haze, children playing and adult bartering, crowds forming abound the carriage before we lose them again in rundown alleys: Here the shining fa?ade of the city has long since cracked. My head is lowered, next to me, Niilan, mind preoccupied, is fiddling with his sleeve cuffs. Gradually the cobblestones change, their size, their color, their erosion, again and again, until finally the giant tower looms before us. Stepping out the bright sun is almost blinding. Enya emerges form the back of the carriage, watching the crowd and Niilan with alert eyes. We exchange glances, his one of forced composure, mine to signal good luck, then he tuns and walks towards the fighter entrance. Niilan and I head up instead, curved stairs after curved stairs we climb the inside of the tower, until the box seats come into view.

    They¡¯re filled with laughter, lighthearted chatter, ordering around of servants and, beneath it all, envious glances and sizing up one another, a social- and political competition more than anticipation for an exciting show filling the ranks of the high and mighty. Niilan joins them, heads turn, greeting are exchanged before the polite conversation resumes. I stop behind his seat. Eventually cheers begin to erupt, the moderator screams something no one can understand, then the silver gates on both sides open. These seats have some of the best visibility in the tower, and yet I have to squint and adjust parts of my eyes for my vision to sharpen enough to make out all details on the ground. Enya and his opponent, a woman of maybe 30, hazel hair, are circling each other, slowly drawing nearer. Enya has grabbed a long sword form the weapon stand. Then, with the flick of her head, Enya¡¯s opponent transforms, dark mane and fur the color of sand to replacing her skin. The lion pounces, claws outstretched. He ducks, dragging the metal of his sword along her flank. Bright red blood spills on the ground, she yowls, swiping thru the air before jumping back. Her form morphs into that of the human woman once more. In that time Enya has fallen back and swiped a dagger off the weapon stand before turning, sprinting at her full force. This time she jumps, barely avoiding the blows of his sword. Further and further she¡¯s driven back until her feet trip. She catches herself on all fours before transforming into a giant hulking bear. A roar echoes the arena, then, with a clinking Enya¡¯s sword falls to the ground as the bear snaps at his arm. Again, the bear charges. Enya, in one quick motion, throws the dagger he just picked up. Mid charge the beast swerves to the left to avoid the knife hitting her skull. Sand is kicked into the air as she comes to a screeching halt, turning around to see Enya gone, a giant eagle, long black feathers, spreading his wings to sore up even further into the sky. His transformation had been slow, the way they always are, but it doesn¡¯t matter, his opponent had been distracted by the dagger. Spreading his wings, Enya takes off into the sky. Along him, the rows and rows of stacked seats as the stadium begin to fill up with howls and cheers. After him, just seconds later, another eagle sores up as well, parts of her plumage drenched in red. The two birds circle each other, ascending further up und up, before, in a heartbeat, the black eagle attacks, claws outstretched. Instantly Enya¡¯s opponent reacts, adjusting her wings to redirect her path of flight. The claws pass over her head. The midday sun is reflecting in the silver bars that separates fighters form humans, as the crowds¡¯ cheers become louder and louder, demanding blood. Both draw back, before clashing once more. But this time, neither one avoids it, screeching fills the air as both of their claws get covered in each other¡¯s blood before both are thrown back from the impact, toward the cage walls, both desperately trying and failing to redirect their path. The white eagle manages to transform halfway back into a bear, desperately trying to protect her fragile bird bones. Then she hits the sliver, a mixture between an eagle¡¯s screech and a bear¡¯s growl fills up the arena as the metal freezes her body mid transformation, sending the chimera plummeting to the ground. For a second the human faces behind the bars are drenched in cold white light. Enya is to slow to even begin the transformation, the black eagle is thrown against the silver, feathers falling, his screeching merging with the one of his opponent, you could hear his wing fracture. Then he plummets as well, wings desperately flapping, one of them uselessly dancing behind him in the wind. The flight pattern is more of a downwards cork spiral. Enya lands hard, the black eagle instantly reverting to a human form. A half-transformed eagle crashes next to him with the sickening sound of a dozens bones snapping. The crowd has gone silent. Enya, his lower arm dangling from left to right in an unnatural angle, is struggling to get up. Slowly, spilling drops of blood as he lumbers forward, he picks up the abandoned dagger on the floor. He leans over the twitching heap of blood, feathers, fur, and bones, turns it over, and stabs it in the heart. The twitching stops. Without missing a breath the arena erupts into deafening, roaring cheers. Other masters jump up to congratulate Niilan, smiling and placing their hands on his shoulder. He looks down at Enya holding his arm instead, discouraged expression in his face: ¡°This is going to take at least a month to fix¡±.

    On the way back Niilan is silent, an air of unsaid words and frustration, always quick to turn into anger filling the inside like a suffocating cloud. Gently the carriage sways from side to side. As if even the universe itself is trying to appease him. In the manor I split off, the dark narrow corridors seeming like a refuge more than usual. I walk down the stairs.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Enya?¡±

    ¡°He won right?¡±

    ¡°Was it a cool fight?¡±, the kinds ask. They have have jumped up as soon as the door opened.

    Aary¡¯s eyes are glistening with excitement: ¡°I would have loved to see it myself. I bet he was really cool¡± she brabbles on, her expression so unlike her usual self. Kara is next to her, pacing. The boy seems like he¡¯s standing on hot coals.

    ¡°He won but has a broken arm. He¡¯s taken care of upstairs, maybe go give him a visit¡±, I say.

    The glistening in Aary¡¯s eyes is exchanged with worry and guilt.

    ¡°It was a clean fracture; it should be well in a month or two. He¡¯s fine, he¡¯ll tell you so himself. Go check, I¡¯m sure he wouldn¡¯t mind a bit of company¡±. I smile, hoping to comfort, and shuffle them upstairs.

    An hour later, Enya is finally patched up. He lumbers down, one careful step after the other, two kids trailing behind him like shadows.

    I look him up and down: ¡°That was a spectacular fight. I¡¯ve seldom heard a crowd cheer that loud.¡±

    ¡°Oh, fuck off¡±, he snaps back, attempting to kick at me before his grin distorts into a grimace. His arm has shifted in the rough bandage and cast. Aary winces. Kara reaches for her hand.

    ¡°Anyways¡±, Enya says thru barred teeth: ¡°I remembered something I wanted to tell Aary. Kara, Njra, you too. Let¡¯s get some privacy.¡±

    As we walk I catch up to him: ¡°Are you sure you want to discuss this now?¡± Enaya nods.

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    He knocks, opens the door. Inside are two others, looking up in surprise: ¡°Sorry, is it okay if we borrow the room for a bit?¡±, Enya asks.

    ¡°Yeah, no problem. How was the fight?¡±

    He looks down at his arm.

    ¡°Ah shit¡­ Well, I guess at least you don¡¯t have to fight for a while now.¡±

    ¡°Yeah yeah, I¡¯ve seen worse, I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll heal nicely.¡±

    ¡°If you say so¡±

    Walking out, their smiles freeze as they squeeze past Kara and me. Enya turns his head towards the kids: ¡°¡­.so, how was your day?¡±

    ¡°Well, we just waited mostly, a bit of training in the beginning¡±, Kara answers, ¡°we¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I thought it was so cool. The fighting. I wanted to see an arena fight since I was small¡­ I forgot¡­.Will your arm be alright?¡± Aarys interrupts. Her voice has the same soft and quiet tone, but now, in this room that has seen so much pain, it sounds not sweet but ghostly, hollow. ¡°Of course, look¡±, Enya says: ¡°the fracture is on the underarm, clean thru, no joints nothing. It¡¯ll heal up in no time. And other than that, it¡¯s just a bit of bruises und spraining. No need to worry¡± She nods. ¡°No, the thing that I wanted to tell you is about your transformations.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be. You know, I thought of something that might help a bit. Can you tell me the reason why the transformations don¡¯t work?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ too painful¡±, she says, ¡°it feels like my body is torn apart¡±

    ¡°I had the same problem. I was in the silver mines when I was younger. Down there the kids don¡¯t have marks. Well at least not the magical ones, too expensive when you just have to replace them, us, every few years. We wore those heavy silver collars. None of us ever learned to transform. And then I got here and suddenly was expected to do so with ease. But it¡¯s hard, you know, when you aren¡¯t used to it, when you¡¯ve never done it before¡±

    ¡°You too?¡±, Aary asks.

    ¡°Yes. But I learned it. Just the way you will as well. You know, the pain while transforming, we all have that¡±

    Aary turns to Kara: ¡°It¡¯s painful for you?! It looks so easy though¡±

    ¡°It hurts yes. But it¡¯s not difficult. It¡¯s only the transformation that¡¯s painful, the faster you do it the quicker it¡¯ll be gone too. And it kinda feels natural to do you know¡±

    Aary looks over to me: ¡°for you as well?¡±

    ¡°Yes. But Kara¡¯s right, you can¡¯t compare it. I¡¯m sure transformation was horrible to learn. But for us it¡¯s like a human learning how to walk. By the time the first memories form they have already forgotten the pain of falling over¡±.

    ¡°But¡± Enya adds, ¡°you don¡¯t have to do it like them. Even now, I can¡¯t transform very fast, or often. But that¡¯s fine. You just have to win; your fighting style is yours alone to decide. Your good with knifes, really good, so you can fight with those. Transformation could be nothing more than a backup plan. You only have to bare it once or twice. Can you do that?¡±

    She nods.

    ¡°And the same goes for you too¡±, I look towards Kara, ¡°You don¡¯t have to fight with martial weapons as your tactic, you just have to be able to use it.¡±

    ¡°Yeeeessss I knowwww¡±, he rolls his eyes. Aary loosens up a bit, smiles.

    The rest of the day is spent training, before in due time, night comes and Kara and Aary go back to the sleeping chamber, quietly bickering as they pass by the others. One by one the hall empties until, like so many nights before, the only one left are Enya and me.

    ¡°How do you feel?¡±, I finally ask, in between picking up another handful of knifes.

    ¡°Good¡±

    I throw a knife: ¡°No you don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine¡±

    ¡°Can I take a look¡±, I gesture to his arm.

    He lifts it up just a bit.

    ¡°The fight was grizzly to look at. What are you going do if it doesn¡¯t heal properly?¡±

    ¡°Be killed most likely¡±

    ¡°If you want to, you can talk to me. About the mines too. You¡¯re not alone.¡±

    ¡°Look who¡¯s talking¡±

    ¡°I just offered. No need to get spiteful¡±

    He grins. Picks up one of my knifes, throw it with his left hand. With a sad thud it lands on the ground several meters next to the target: ¡°You know, if today had been the end, I wouldn¡¯t have minded¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, then what¡¯s the reason you keep on fighting?¡±

    ¡°Why do you?¡±

    ¡°I fight to survive. For every last second of it¡±

    ¡°What for?¡±

    ¡°I promised¡±

    ¡°To whom?¡±

    ¡°My mother. You didn¡¯t answer my question¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just here. I¡¯ll take care of the others for a bit longer. And then I¡¯ll die and someone else will have to take over. That¡¯s just how it works¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a heavy burden¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the same. I¡¯ve seen the way you look at Kara. You¡¯d protect that boy with your life¡±

    ¡°Not with my life¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll see. And why him anyways? I¡¯ve never seen you bonding with any of your students before¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like being a mentor. We both know that¡±

    ¡°But he¡¯s different isn¡¯t he. Because he¡¯s a wildling?¡±

    ¡°No. His eyes are different. He is¡­ they¡¯re not broken¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the thing you¡¯re protecting, isn¡¯t it? He reminds you of yourself¡±

    ¡°No. I never had eyes like that¡±

    ¡°No you haven¡¯t.¡± Silence. ¡°It¡¯s late. I¡¯m going back¡±

    He trots over, opens the door, pauses: ¡°You¡¯re not coming?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. I will stay a bit longer¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you tired?¡±

    ¡°I do not like sleeping¡±

    ¡°Well suit yourself¡± smiles ¡°I¡¯ll go give my arm some healing time¡±

    ¡°Hey¡±, I say as he¡¯s already halfway out, ¡°I¡¯ll take over training for both of them tomorrow. So rest¡±

 Chapter 6

    Routine is a strange thing. Nights fall and turn into days, only for the darkness to swallow them once more, until suddenly what had felt strange and alien yesterday seems as if it had been there from the start. I had always found peace in my imposed solitude, yet, only months later, not being accompanied by a steady source of bickering and laughing leaves me feeling empty, the passing of time flooding away years routine like it has done so many times before. Kara learns to hit his targets, Aary manages to change her form, a master calls for his doll to play.

    ¡°I have an announcement to make¡±. The man who spoke those worlds, gray hair, skittish manner, is half concealed behind the door, as if shielding himself. From the assembled crowd of Niilans fighters rings out snickering and laughing each time the man moves or tires to speak. A broad-shouldered woman makes eye contact with the man and a sudden move forward. The servant flinches. The snickering grows more numerous. Eyes darting around the room, he squeezes thru the narrow gap between doorframe and door, as if opening it any further would send us rushing towards him: ¡°The master wills this massage to be announced: Niilan son of Kieran, holder of the blintlant estates and mines, was granted the honor to participate in the hr? tournament¡±. The hallway falls quiet in an instance. ¡°The tournament will take place five months from now. The chosen participates fights will be reduced in the meantime and extra rations will be granted. The ones receiving this honor are: 263 Sjilin, 549 Njra, 845 Aary.  I¡¯m going to die.

    The girl turns to Enya: ¡°What¡¯s that tournament about?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so so sorry¡±, he says.

    ¡°What is it? Why would you say that?¡±

    ¡°Ten masters are required to enter three participants each. They fight against each other in an over multiple weeks spanning tournament until only one combatant is left.¡±

    ¡°No¡± the girl looks around her, meeting faces turned, avoiding her gaze, ¡°NO! That can¡¯t be¡­¡±.

    Alinta begins to laugh, glaring at me with unbridled glee.

    The doomed girl turns towards Kara: ¡°There¡¯s no way I¡¯ll win¡±

    The servant hurriedly slips out and shuts the door. We¡¯re going to die. Enya has drawn the panicking girl closer to him. Kara stands still, as if time had frozen.

    Groups begin to form: Around the girl, around Sjilin, hurriedly retiring to the sleeping chambre or whispering in a barely adjusted volume about this new fate of ours. I draw back.

    ¡°NO¡±, the girl screams. Her small little form fighting against Enya¡¯s grasp with all her might. For once, those empty eyes of hers are almost blazing with furry; ¡°It¡¯s not fair. There¡¯s no way I¡¯ll win! IT¡¯S NOT FAIR!¡± Then her gaze drills into me: ¡°There¡¯s no way I¡¯ll win against you! WHY YOU?! ¡­I can¡¯t win..I can¡¯t..I won¡¯t survive this.¡± I should have turned, should have left the scramming girl behind me. There¡¯s nothing I can do. Instead I say: ¡°Neither of us will¡±. Then I finally escape the suffocating tunnel. Behind me the girl begins to weep. I¡¯ve never heard her weep.

    Five months left. We¡¯re going to die. No, we¡¯re not, she won¡¯t let us. I can¡¯t. Five months. The sun had vanished behind the mountain peaks hours ago. Cold night air whispers of tales beyond the walls. The perfectly manicured vegetation is draped in the stark contrast between the shadows and glistening moon light. I¡¯m going to die. I wander up to one of the garden walls. They¡¯re small and fragile, could never keep anything out. Small stones, neatly cut, a bright cream-color that seems to draw in the moonlight itself. On the segments near the pavilion delicate carved flowers join the real ones, an artificial scent hanging in the air even now as the night has set in. It¡¯s a garden made by and for those who never understood the true beauty of nature. Five months left. I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t want to die. At the most secluded part of the small garden I jump onto the wall, letting the shadows hide me from the world. That¡¯s the reason I come up here, not the plants or pathways that wave thru them, but the night.Five months. Here the dark blanket is not only hiding in corners and narrow hallways but smothering the entire world. And in this endless sea, peaking thru between the hanging clouds, I can see the stars shine. Mom looks beautiful tonight. I don¡¯t want to end up like her. I reach out, as if grasping the air before me would bring me closer to the star twinkling behind my fingers. The color of my skin is almost bleeding into the night sky behind them, full, dark, cold, like rushing water in a ravine. I close my eyes, letting the cool breeze pass over my skin, taking deep breaths, trying to ignore the feeling of suffocating. We¡¯re going to die.

    I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯ve been here before I hear a voice. ¡°You up there?¡±. My body reacts before I do, hands morph into claws, teeth into fangs as I launch towards the sound, aimed for the silhouettes throat. Then I freeze. Before me stands Kara, arms raised to shield his face. Even now I still can¡¯t hear that child¡¯s footsteps until it¡¯s too late. I shake my head in some semblance of annoyance, jump up onto the decorated garden wall before transforming back into human form.

    ¡°Since when are you so jumpy?¡±

    ¡°Sais the boy who snuck up on me¡±

    ¡°You know full well that I wasn¡¯t trying to be stealthy¡±

    I tap next to me: ¡°Come up. And next time give me a heads up. This would have ended worse for you than for me¡±. He transforms, flies up, turns back.

    I had hoped to be alone. Just for today. Just these few hours. But as the boy settles down next to me, glancing up at the stars, I push my own dread and worry down and I make my body act out the emotions that my heart cannot.

    ¡°How is Aary?¡±, I ask.

    ¡°Bad. She¡­ I tired, I can¡¯t help, I only make it worse. Enya¡¯s taking care of her. Look: I wanted to go check on you. I¡¯m really sorry¡±

    ¡°What for?¡±

    ¡°For this¡±

    ¡°It is hardly your fault¡±

    ¡°How ... How are you feeling?¡±

    ¡°Fine¡±

    ¡°The thing you said. That there¡¯s no way for either of you to survive this. Did you mean it?¡±

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    ¡°Yes¡±

    ¡°But that can¡¯t be! Right? You¡¯re the best fighter down here. By a long shot. And you¡¯re placed so high on the ranking. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be alright¡±

    ¡°No¡± I look at him, ¡°The trainers chosen for the tournament are required to place their highest ranked. The chosen trainers tend to be those who¡¯ve done a bit too well for themselves, to knock them down a peg. Either Delyth or Aisha will have been chosen for sure. Maybe even both. I won¡¯t survive this¡±

    ¡°But I need you¡­¡±

    ¡°No¡±. I press the boy against me. ¡°No, you will do just fine without me. You¡¯re strong¡±

    Slowly the clouds creep across the horizon. One light at the time the bustling city falls into darkness.

    ¡°What¡¯s it like having a mother?¡±, the boy asks.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I never knew. You had one, right?¡±

    ¡°What makes you think that?¡±

    ¡°The way you act. You must¡¯ve learned it form somewhere.¡±

    No

    ¡°I had a mother yes. A long time ago¡±

    ¡°How was she¡±

    ¡°She was very kind. She used to tell me stories: About the past when nothing stood between us and the heavens, about when the phoenixes domain was still here on earth. And about the stars.¡±

    Kara looked up at those little points of light in the endless expanse: ¡°The stars?¡±

    ¡°When a shifter dies, their soul transforms one last time into a bird of fire: wings as vibrant as glowing embers, eyes indistinguishable from the sun itself. They will fly up, far far away, until, from down here, all we can see is their blazing light. There they will join their loved ones and watching over us until it¡¯s our time as well. At least that¡¯s what she told me¡±

    ¡°And? Do you believe her?¡±

    I look up as well, lay my gaze upon the hundreds of million little dots: ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I have never thought about it in terms of truth or fiction. My mom thought it was real, so it just became the way I remember her.¡±

    The boy looks up: ¡°There¡¯s so many stars standing alone. They must not have had anyone. They look lonely. I¡¯d be the same as them. You know, before I was captured, I didn¡¯t even know there where others like me. I thought the world must have made a mistake, that it forgot to decide what I was¡±, he looks down, ¡°I never had parents. Well, I guess I had, someone must¡¯ve given birth to me. But I don¡¯t know them. I was raised by crows, at first. But they realized I wasn¡¯t theirs as soon as the transformations began. Then there were some badgers, foxes and a deer. But soon they were gone too¡­ Do you miss the wilderness?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I can barely recall it¡±

    Liar

    ¡°I do. Every day. This life isn¡¯t what we¡¯re made for, I just know it¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. But it is of no importance¡±

    ¡°Out there, things can be cruel too. And harsh. But you don¡¯t have to be conscious during it. Nature is simple to figure out. Morph into the form you need, let your instincts make sure you survive. Don¡¯t think¡±.

    ¡°Maybe¡±

    ¡°Maybe?¡±

    ¡°I never really survived in the wilderness. My mom and I had a cave. And there I waited until she came back¡±

    ¡°And one day she didn¡¯t come back?¡±

    ¡°No. She always came back. Eventually. She died protecting me¡±

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°I was stupid. Stupid and na?ve. Those stories she told me, so many of them were about my father. I cannot really recall his face; I was too small when he disappeared. One day mom just came back alone. She never talked about what happened, but she wasn¡¯t the same after that. And she would always look up at the sky and talk to him. And one day the stupid little girl decided she wanted to go see her father. So I took all I had in me and transformed into a phoenix: I thought, if I just flew up far enough, I could find him. I did not know about hunters. And well, a bird like that is easy to spot. My mom heard my screams and came. I never saw anyone fight as hard as she did. Till the very end¡±.

    ¡°She must have really loved you¡±

    ¡°Yes. She did. And I only realized it once it was too late. That day I promised her to survive¡±. Five months left.

    The boy has pressed himself closer to my chest. It¡¯s hard to say if it was to comfort me or himself.

    ¡°You know, all of us need a reason to keep going. Maybe yours could be to find someone to join you up there, in the sky.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s depressing. But yeah maybe.¡± The boy smiles.

    Rope, laced with silver stings, pressing down on her, burning into flesh. The girl was a bird of fire, strong and wild. And she was a daughter too. In a few minutes, she will be neither. Her head soared, vision blurry from pain and disorientation. She could no longer feel her right wing, the sound of her own heartbeat drowning out the voices of the humans around her. The girl cried out. She cried out in pain, she cried out in terror, and as that dumb little bird frantically tried and failed to right herself, she cried out for her mother too. Her screams, some loud, some silent between her desperate gasps for air, rang out, again and again. Only as the sky itself darkened did she stop. Above her, above all of them, soared a bird, blocking out the sun, crying out for her daughter as well. Then it plunged downwards, transforming into a massive rust colored beast almost on impact, towering before the small caravan, leaving no time for even the hunters to react. Their cheerful amused voices switched, barking out orders, taking commands as bloodcurdling screams started to fill the air. The beast lumbered forward, sending attackers flying, at least the fortunate ones. Those who weren¡¯t had slumped over, their screams joining the mismatches chorus of pain already surrounding all of them, bloody hands pressed on wounds. One man, face laid bare to the bone by her mother¡¯s claws, had toppled over, the woman next to him held her core, trying to keep more of her guts form spilling on the floor before she went limp. Years later, even as all those details had begun to blur, as the form of the beast had been lost to time, her mother¡¯s eyes, the all-consuming rage in them, was still burned into the girl¡¯s mind. She cried out for her mother again, her shrieks drowned out by the noise around her. Her mother was in pain, she could see it. Several spears, silver tipped, sticking out of her side, even as more and more of the humans toppled over. ¡°We can¡¯t capture the beast. Kill it!¡±, the command the rang out, louder than the others, even as neither mother nor daughter could understand. She fought hard, that little girl¡¯s mother, harder than the girl had ever seen anybody fight. And yet, with each lumbering step towards her child, she lost blood, lost a bit more power in her claw swipes, a bit more of that sparkle in her eyes. Still, the furry in them never waned. Another human screamed, as he was launched into the air, before abruptly stopping as he crashed into the ground. A sickening crack rang out and the body went limp. More spears pierced the beast¡¯s neck, then her flank. Her mother¡¯s eyes where now fixed onto the girl, each of her steps weaker still. The girl begged for her mother to flee. And for her own rescue, even as she knew neither one was plausible. First her mother¡¯s left leg gave in, then, as she struggled to right herself, the right. A woman charged, sword stretched out for the killing blow. Her screaming was cut short as the beast pushed her blade aside and crushed her skull between her fangs. When her mother finally fell, unable to stand up once more, she was only inches apart from her daughter, still entangled in that weighed down net. There the girls mother died, spears sticking out of her flank, her legs, her neck, her eye socket. She had had beautiful eyes, gray like storm clouds, like the stones sticking out in the snow-covered mountains, like the mist that engulfed the forest after a rainy night. Now it was filled with blood. The girl had been born with blue eyes. Today would be the last day she had them.

 Chapter 7

    Last night I didn¡¯t get much sleep, this night I won¡¯t either. It has been a long time since sleep came easy to me, yet still, my spinning thoughts have taken away even the bit of refuge it still offered. Five months left.

    Part of me had always taken solace in that unknown. The humans can hold command over my body, my life, but they would not command my death: That was mine to control. In the end I would go down because of my own skills, not a decision of theirs. Now even that had been taken away. I nock, spinning thoughts still trailing me like a shadow. Five months left.

    ¡°How are you feeling?¡±, I ask, masking my anxiousness as concern.

    Niilan sits where he always does, head slumped forward, staring at the richly ornamented wall across him. Pathetic.

    ¡°Sit¡±.

    I kneel before him, head lowered, waiting. Pain explodes, my head feels light for a moment before I tumble to the side. My arms, stretched out to cushion the fall, give in and I hit the floor. Drops of blood stick to Niilan¡¯s heel and trickle down onto the polished wooden floor.

    I enhance the dark circles under my eyes: ¡°Forgive me.¡±

    ¡°You should have come the moment you heard the announcement!¡±

    ¡°I did not want to intrude so I waited for you call... I hardly slept because of my worry for you¡±.

    ¡°Was that so hard?¡±, he brushes away the hair that has fallen into my face, ¡°why couldn¡¯t you have said that in the beginning? Now there¡¯s blood on the floor.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll send for someone to clean it. Or would you like me to do it.¡±

    He shakes his head, then he grabs me by the face and forces my head to look up: ¡°I raised you well¡±. Kill him. Flee. Niilan grins and kisses me.

    ¡°It¡¯s unfair you know. We just had a little feud, nothing big, no reason to enroll me in that fucking tournament.¡±

    ¡°Maryln?¡±

    He nods.

    ¡°Enya¡¯s arm is broken, soon you¡¯ll be out of the picture too. What am I supposed to do? They¡¯ll laugh me out of any respectable meeting.¡±

    ¡°Enya¡¯s arm is healing well. By the time of the tournament it¡¯ll be whole again.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t flatter yourself, we both know you might as well be dead the moment the combatants list for this year goes up. Especially because I can¡¯t place you in any meaningful battles until the tournament. No, I must do something else. I still have the other wildling. I¡¯ll send him. He¡¯ll just have to make his debut before you are discounted. I won¡¯t seem as weak.¡±

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    ¡°You¡¯re cunning¡±

    He grins again. ¡°Yes, yes that¡¯s how I¡¯ll do it. And I¡¯ll send that new girl as well. I must be fast, they¡¯ll fight in 2 days, there¡¯s still a timeslot open. The planers still owe me a favor.¡±

    ¡°May I voice a concern?¡±

    He waves his hand, head already somewhere else.

    ¡°Wildlings are difficult, as you know. The problem is often not with their skills but minds. I suspect the boy will do better if he has time to prepare¡±

    Niilan sighs, rubbing his hands against his Temple: ¡°Fine. He has a week¡±.

    I make myself smile as I gently place a finger on his lips. Even as he kisses me, I can still taste my own blood.

    -

    When I open the door to the training chambre that night Enya is standing there, candles lit.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t get a chance to talk to you yesterday¡±, he says.

    I walk past him without a reply.

    ¡°I want you to talk to me. Please¡±.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go see Aary in the morning.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.¡±

    I look at him, shake my head.

    ¡°Njra, please, there has to be something. We can change this, the tournament¡­¡± he pauses, ¡°¡­everything.¡±

    I stop. My body is pulsating with pain, my lip has begun to swell up. Make him stop. He can help. He can¡¯t. Five months. Their screams are so loud I struggle to comprehend Enya¡¯s words: ¡°You know when you said that I could talk to you about my shit. Please, let me help you too!¡± He sounds like wall of glass is separating him, the world, and me.

    ¡°No¡±

    ¡°We can¡­¡±

    ¡°Enya please, tomorrow I will be fine, just give me tonight.¡±

    He nods, finally, and leaves. I fall to the ground. Five months. I¡¯ll be dead in five months.

    -

    In the morning I go find the little girl, doomed like me. She has changed, even in the short time since the announcement. Her eyes have fallen in, thru the dark circles her yellow irises aren¡¯t beautiful, like molten gold matching the golden hair, but look sickly and dazed. They¡¯re darting around the room, then lock onto me. She¡¯s silent again, observant, hollow, the way she was just a few weeks back.

    The girl looks up: ¡°I didn¡¯t mean what I said back there.¡±

    ¡°You did. It¡¯s fine¡±

    The three of them sit in a circle, empty wooden bowls next to them. Without a word Enya scoots to the side. I sit down. I smile. It¡¯s a sad smile, reserved. A smile that, I hope, will make her feel at ease: ¡°There¡¯s a lot of time left until the start of the tournament. And we still have fights until then. Let¡¯s focus on winning those. Aary, I will continue to support you. We don¡¯t gain anything by letting humans divide us.¡± For a second Enya¡¯s eyes narrow. The girl hesitates before nodding. I turn to Kara as well: ¡°Both of you will have your first fight a week from now. It can¡¯t be pushed back any further.¡±

 Chapter 8

    The candles have begun burn low before, eventually, starting to flicker and go out, one by one. The scent of smoke replaces one of molten wax and stale sweat as one dying light at a time the darkness begins to engulf us. But we, the four of us, stay, none of us bothered. We are its children after all. At least Enya and I. Tomorrow, Aary and Kara will follow. Or die. They aren¡¯t ready, but it doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s too late for those concerns now, their fate is set in stone. The only thing we can do is watch it play out in front of us. And so we stay, in the training hall, in the silence, because Kara and Aary won¡¯t be able to sleep anyways, because they don¡¯t want the morning to come. The boys eyes are engulfed in memories. His lips open, begin to form into words the feeling of the past: ¡°Winter in the mountains was hard, yet it was so beautiful that I couldn¡¯t help but love it. The way the snow falls, first tenderly and then ever more and faster until the whole world became enveloped in a white, sparkling blanket. The world would always be so quiet then. Weeks could go by where the only sign of other life would be the occasional traces in the snow.¡± ¡°What is snow?¡±, Aary asks, hesitantly, as if she doesn¡¯t want to disturb the landscape Kara has begun painting. ¡°It¡¯s like a powder, a clean white cold powder that falls form the sky when it¡¯s really cold. Like rain. And when you take it into your hands it becomes water. And in the spring the whole snow that covers everything begins to meld and then rushes down into the greenland so that the rivers almost overflow¡± ¡°What¡¯s a river?¡±, Aary askes again. And Kara explains. He tells them about rivers and lakes, about waterfalls and rainbows, he describes the mountains and forests, transforms into deer with their giant antlers, into foxes and bears until Aarys and Enyas eyes begin to shine and even I can picture scenes I thought I had forgotten long ago. When the boy has finished the girl picks up from where he left off. She mentions the small room where she and the others had been kept. But she does not mention what she must have experienced in that room, what gave her the eyes of the dead. Instead, she describes the small little window thru which she had been able to see the stars.  She describes those stars in such detail and with such intensity that cold stone celling above us seems like the night sky itself. We can see the little stars and the big ones, the patterns they form and the way they moved in the sky. And she recounts, how every night new stars would appear in the frame of that little window whilst others disappeared, and about how, after a year, the same stars as before where once again visible in that frame. And so they reminisce about the past, about everything that is beautiful and nothing that is painful. Because this is the last night they¡¯re children. This night, they want the world to be beautiful.

    It takes long for fatigue to win and the children to slip into unconsciousness. We carry them back to the sacks of straw and scraps of fabric, to where gentle breathing and the sound of occasional tossing and turning are the only thing filling the emptiness of the stuffy chambre. I lay Kara down, a slender frame with fragile limbs amongst strong broad shoulders. When the sun rises and the others awake, the children stay asleep. Their fight will be in the afternoon.

    The hot summer air presses down on all onlookers, stagnant and dry, making even the masters in the shaded box seats sweat. Beneath us, the sand of the arenas seems to almost flicker. The boy is down there, across him a woman, olive skinned with dark curly hair, no older than twenty-four herself but seeming so grown in comparison. Karas eyes dart around. It looks like he¡¯s panting even without any strain on his body. His eyes, desperately trying to focus on his opponent, can¡¯t help but dart up to the masses, to their chanting and cheering. Next to me, Nilan is fixated on that newly bought possession of his, the boy that he places all his future hopes and ambitions on. Kara takes a step back; the crowd begins to protest. The sound is almost deafening to him. He takes a couple more steps back, staring at the woman then the crowd again, his gaze filled with terror and rage. Like a cornered animal. As soon as their eyes meet, the woman shifts her weight to her back foot and goes into a defensive stance. It¡¯s a small change, but it¡¯s enough. Karas eyes snap back to her, narrow, his muscles tense. He¡¯s not a fighter, not yet. But he can kill. He¡¯s killed before. The boy¡¯s outside again, on one of those mountain fields, facing an opponent that just made herself pray. Let¡¯s hope instincts will suffice. She charges. In an instance Kara¡¯s gone. Muttering echoes thru the rank of the onlookers. The woman looks around in a panic, trying to catch a glimpse of where he might be. Behind her, what had been a small fly morphs into a slender mountain lion, fangs glazing in the sun for but a second before they are buried in her skull. The woman goes limp. Dead. Kara lands. There are bits of blood, skin and brain matter smeared on his now human face and teeth as he breaks down on the sand next to the stiff corps. The entire fight has lasted less than a minute. The crowd begins to boo. People standing up, yelling, demanding for their money back. Kara begins to gag and throw up. Around us, the other masters are chuckling, miserably failing to hide the glee in their eyes.

    One man turns: ¡°Was that your new prodigy? What a ...surprising... boy.¡±

    Niilan turns around with forced smile: ¡°You know how wildlings are. They just have their beginning quirks¡±

    Behind us others begin to whisper, loud enough for it to be on purpose: ¡°See I told the old geezer just got lucky once or twice¡±

    ¡°It certainly wasn¡¯t talent. I always knew.¡±

    Niilan¡¯s fists clench up: ¡°I must apologize for leaving already, but I¡¯m afraid I have some important business to take care of.¡±

    ¡°Yes you do.¡± Someone giggles.

    He gives a few halfhearted handshakes before hurrying out. Behind us the murmuring continues: ¡°He just doesn¡¯t have the flair for the sport. It¡¯s art after all¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you he only got such good arrangements because of his mines¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t those drying up anyways?¡±

    As I hurry after Niilan, my enhanced ears can barely make out the speaker announcing Aary. He storms out of the arena and slams the carriage door shut.

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    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill that wildling.¡±

    It¡¯s a statement, not a threat, I can see it in his eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to do what I should¡¯ve done the moment that wild beast attacked my guards!¡±

    <h2>I can survive this. Kara won¡¯t.</h2>

    ¡°Forgive me master¡±

    ¡°What?¡±, Nilan¡¯s rage can be felt thru every barely controlled syllable he presses out. It makes my body freeze up.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think he would do it¡­ like this¡­¡±, I studder.

    He grabs my face, almost smashing it into the carriage door: ¡°What?!¡±

    My body begins to tremble. Good. ¡°It was his first battle. I just... he is still so new. I was worried he will lose. It was such an important fight for you¡­¡±

    My voice is muffled thru his hand. He lets go: ¡°Stop rambling and tell me what you did!¡±

    ¡°I told him to hunt and not fight, not worry about the time¡±

    The back of a hand smashes into my face before his finger clutch around my throat. I know better than to defend myself.

    ¡°Don¡¯t! Breath!¡±

    The entire carriage is engulfed in a bright red light. In an instance my body freezes, my lungs refusing to bring in the air I command them to. Niilan opens his hand and I fall to the floor of the carriage, clutching my chest. No sound escapes my agape mouth. My vision begins to narrow. Black dots appear in my vision, growing bigger with each passing second. My mind has become foggy.

    Niilan gazes down, cold ember eyes that have haunt my every move.

    Then the spasms begin, my body gasping for the air I can¡¯t breathe in. I can feel a hand on my cheek, brushing away the stands of hair that have fallen into my face. I clutch it, press it against me as the world begins to spin. Suddenly, the carriage is filled with light and I can breathe. Air rushes into my desperate lungs. The spasms stop and I begin coughing. On my back the mark has begun to bleed.

    ¡°Stupid girl¡±

    I don¡¯t reply.

    ¡°You know I have to punish you for this.¡± The hot anger in Niilans eyes has subsided.

    ¡°Of course.¡± My voice is no more than a whisper.

    ¡°Flogging. 15 Blows. Tell the red head once we get back.¡±

    I close my eyes. The carriage is shaking back and forth in a tranquil motion. Faint chatter from a market slip thru form outside. If the people heard what just happened, they do not care.

    ¡°I think the wildling can still be useful¡±, I say. Niilan glances over: ¡°Fine¡±.

    I stagger down the stairs, the pain morphing the world around me into a blurred haze of shapes and washed-out colors. One step at a time, more my brain cannot comprehend. My back is covered in blood and bits of flesh, soon my shirt will be drenched as well. It will leave stains that linger even after washing them countless times. I reach the door, the hallways. Soon I will be able to fall into that small niche of mine, next to all the others, let the haze consume me and take me to places I have no will left to fight against going. I bump into something, someone, Kara. He¡¯s talking, lips moving, hands gesturing with obvious panic, yet he must repeat himself four times until the words sicker thru to me: ¡°You gotta come. It¡¯s Aary. Please!¡±

    The little side chamber is filled with blood. On the floor, on the sheets, on the girl laying between them. In an instant the adrenalin pushes away the haze. I can see her clear now, pale from the loss of blood, chest rising and falling only with great effort. Half of her face is disfigured, one eye nothing but a blood-filled crevasse. Her left arm ends in a stump. But what strikes me the most is her golden hair. It lays strewn around the girl¡¯s head, tangled and drenched, framing her face like a halo. I sit down. Enya searches my gaze, hesitant. I nod. He closes his eye and looks down.

    Both are clutching the girl¡¯s hand. Her knuckles are white as she her grip tightens.

    ¡°I won¡±, she whispers. Then again, louder this time: ¡°I won¡±.

    Kara holds her hand even tighter: ¡°I know¡±. Their eyes are locked. ¡°It will be okay. You won¡±

    ¡°I won.¡±

    Both of their voices are shaking. Underneath the girl the blood seeping thru the bandages is pooling.

    It takes a while until anyone dares to move, as if the sheer act of it would speed up precious time. Enya is the first to break free. He gets up. I shake my head: ¡°I¡¯ll go. You stay¡±.

    When I get back no one has moved. The water is cold. A bit of it swaps over the rim as I place bowl and cloth down. It splatters on the ground, leaving behind dark stains. Gently Enya picks up the cloth and begins to wash away the blood. Her hand, her torso, her shoulders her neck, pinkish water running down her body in trails, searching paths, splitting and merging. By the time Enya¡¯s finished, the girls¡¯ sharp painful gasps have changed into something more akin to breathing.

    ¡°Try to rest now. It¡¯s okay¡±, Enya sais.

    Her eyes wander over to Kara.

    He says: ¡°We can talk about the fight in the morning. I bet it was cool.¡±

    ¡°Tomorrow¡±, she whispers, ¡°I want you to tell me about autumn.¡±

    ¡°We can do that too. I¡¯ll tell you about anything you want. I promise.¡±

    Her hand is pressed against Kara¡¯s face as she closes her eyes. When I notice the melody, I cannot tell how long it had been there. It¡¯s a tender tune that fills the room and trickles into all off our subconscious. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve heard Enya sing. It¡¯s an old nursery song, words haunted by the forsaken dreams of a hundred generations before us. It tells of a world long gone and one yet to come. A promise that when the water will flow up not down and the sky will burn form west to east, freedom would be ours again. The girl has fallen asleep long before Enya lets the last verse fade out into silence. Gently he brushes away the few strands of blood covered hair still stuck to her face before taking her head in his hands. Then he snaps Aary¡¯s neck. Kara screams.

 Chapter 9

    The girls lifeless head falls to the side. It hits the floor comes to rest in a pool of her own blood. The surface ripples form the impact. Kara attacks. Enya is thrown against the wall, ducking before the boys¡¯ fangs close around, where his throat would have been. Aary¡¯s eyes are closed, her face forever frozen in an expression of rest. Sometimes I think I know death better than life, but off all the faces I can recall, frozen in agony and fear, hers seems too peaceful to be one of them. Still, looking at her gives no comfort. Her eyes have grown dull, a waxen mask where her face should have been. I cover Aary with a blanket and look up. The two are still fighting. Kara is snaping towards Enya¡¯s broken arm, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness, claws outstretched as he pounces. I slam into the boy so hard that he¡¯s flung against the wall. He ricochets off and lands on his feet, starring at both of us with uncontrolled rage.

    ¡°Get out¡±, I yell, ¡°now.¡±

    Enya dashes to the door. Kara ties to chase him but is pinned down as I throw my transformed weight against him. The door closes.

    I glare at the boy: ¡°Cut it out.¡±

    Kara snaps at my face and vanishes under my paws. I turn into a bat, head turning towards the small fly in an instant, quickly gaining on him. He transforms back, hands shoot out, trying to squash me mid-flight. As they slam into my form, the bat is gone, and a panther stands in its place instead.

    ¡°She¡¯s dead. This won¡¯t bring her back¡±, I say.

    ¡°No, but...¡±

    This time I¡¯m faster. I pounce, my fangs closing around his throat before he can react. Kara freezes. Finally. A bit of blood trickles down from where my fangs have pierced skin. He¡¯s panting. I am as well. My back is burning. I have a hard time getting my eyes to focus.

    ¡°Are you done?¡±

    ¡°Why?!¡±

    ¡°Why what?¡±

    ¡°Why are you defending him?... Why did he kill her? She would have been fine!¡±

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    He breaks down. The sobs come out uncontrollably amidst the gasps for air. I let go.

    ¡°Why did she have to die? She¡¯s gone! She¡¯s gone and I can still taste that woman¡¯s blood and brain. And Aary¡¯s gone.¡±

    I stay silent.

    ¡°Tell me why you defended him! NOW!¡± His voice cracks.

    ¡°Are you sure you want to know?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare treat me like a child. Not after all of this!¡±

    ¡°If Enya didn¡¯t kill her, Niilan would have.¡±

    ¡°Why would Niilan kill his own possessions!?¡±

    ¡°It would have been expensive to keep her alive¡­ And she wouldn¡¯t have been able to fight again. Not with one arm missing, not as an absolute beginner. And well, and with a face disfigured like that, no one is going to buy her at a reasonable price.¡±

    ¡°And that makes it okay? All of you have lost you fucking minds.¡±

    My head is pounding: ¡°You¡¯re the one that asked. Now bare it.¡±

    ¡°You know, I actually thought you cared.¡±

    ¡°I do. Just because I know what had to be done does not mean I mourn any less.¡± Do you?

    ¡°Spare me the bullshit!¡±

    ¡°Okay¡±

    ¡°Okay?!¡±

    ¡°This is my way. And Enya¡¯s. It does not have to be yours.¡±

    ¡°Well fuck me, I guess. At least the two of you have found out how to turn off your hearts! How are you fine with Niilan doing all this?!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡±

    ¡°THEN WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ACTING LIKE IT!¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have the luxury of acting out in anger. The moment they see us as a danger they will put us down like a rabid dog.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not how anger works!¡±

    ¡°Yes, it is. You will learn soon enough.¡±

    ¡°Fuck off¡±

    I don¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear me. LEAVE!¡±

    I nod and stand up: ¡°What happened today is not your fault.¡±

    ¡°I know¡±

    ¡°Good¡±

 Chapter 10

    The air in the hallway is cold. I lean against a wall. Outside the last sun beams have finally lost their fight against the night. But there¡¯s no way for me to know, all we have down here are candles. I follow them, a trail of barely burning flames to the place I know Enya will be. Why? He looks up as I enter, features barely visible amongst the darkness.

    ¡°How¡¯s Kara?¡±

    ¡°Angry and exhausted. Don¡¯t hold what happened against him.¡±

    ¡°He had no right acting the way he did.¡±

    ¡°Maybe he is the only sane person down here.¡±

    ¡°You despise the master, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Answer my question!¡±

    ¡°Yes I do.¡±

    ¡°See, that¡¯s the thing with both of you¡±, he chuckles, ¡°you only know life as a fighter. He¡­ you wouldn¡¯t be acting like this this otherwise. You¡¯ve never had to experience anything worse. Do you have any idea what it¡¯s like to go hungry for weeks? To get hit every single day until you can¡¯t walk without pain. To cover every time, you see a silhouette move?!¡±

    Yes. I don¡¯t answer.

    ¡°Those past few months was probably the happiest time of Aary¡¯s life. And when she died, she had a good death. Quick and painless. ¡°

    ¡°That was not a good death.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the best she could have gotten!¡±

    ¡°Just because worse fates exist doesn¡¯t make hers... or ours a good one.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you get it?! It doesn¡¯t matter what¡¯s theoretically fair! ?

    ¡°Enya. Not today. Please.¡±

    ¡°NO! You listen to me. This is our life, and it¡¯s so much better than anything else we could have gotten. The both of you should be on your knees, THANKING the master instead of being angry at things that will never change.¡±

    ¡°Thanking him?! Just because you¡¯re grieving does not mean you have the right to talk to me like that. If you want to throw a tantrum, go do it by yourself.¡± My back is pulsating with the pain that¡¯s slowly seeping back in thru the adrenaline. I can feel the blood trickle down my spine and further stain an already drenched shirt. ¡°Go lick Niilans boots for all I care but the next time tell me, what he does to me is justified, it will end with your brain splattered against a wall.¡±

    I don¡¯t storm out, nor do I slam the door shut. I simply leave, that¡¯s all I have left in me. Behind me Enya might have said something, or he might not, the voices have all blended into one screaming mass. Five months left. I stumble up the stairs, into the servant corridors. I feel like a ghost, wandering them in the search of something I will not find in this city. I don¡¯t recall how I ended up in the garden, I just end up staring at the stars like I¡¯ve done so many times before.

    This little spot on that pathetic stone wall is the closest thing I have to a graveyard. It¡¯s a place where I can mourn for my mother, and for that little quiet girl that would listen to her stories. Now I¡¯m here to mourn the doomed girl with the dead eyes as well. I search the sky for a new star, but to me, they all look the same. It¡¯s getting hard to keep my eyes open, but I can¡¯t bring myself to go down. The cold wind blows thru my hair as if to comfort me in its embrace. I wonder what the girl would think right now. If she saw us fighting. I hope she didn¡¯t. Somewhere off an owl screams. Patterns of light and shadow move over the perfect vegetation as the moon hides behind wisps of clouds and reveal itself again. I watch that game, for how long I cannot tell. Then I hear footsteps. They¡¯re loud, if not clumsy. I turn to see Enya¡¯s silhouette, eyes narrowed, scanning the surrounding.

    ¡°Looking for someone?¡±

    He flinches at the sound of my voice: I didn¡¯t thing Id actually find you up here.¡±

    I shrug.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. There was no use in me saying what I did.¡±

    ¡°Much worse things have been said to me. It¡¯s fine¡±

    He shakes his head: ¡°No it¡¯s not.¡±

    I shrug a second time.

    ¡°Is it okay if I join you?¡±

    I nod. He climbs up.

    ¡°You meant it. So don¡¯t apologize¡±, I say.

    ¡°No I¡­ maybe I did. But that wasn¡¯t the reason I threw it in your face.¡±

    I give a tired smile.

    ¡°You told me once I could talk about the mines, if you¡¯re still willing to listen. I¡¯d like for you to understand.¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°Life down there was¡­ not good. The first memories I have is crawling thru tunnels with blisters on my hands and knees. And of getting beaten. It was a hellhole, even if I only realized once I got out. It was a hellhole, but I never felt lonely. Those children, we were each other¡¯s family. Brothers and sisters, the older ones something like parents. There was this girl, Aneka, she was one of the oldest. Always took care of us, tucked us in, split up rations so everyone got something, gave away hers if there wasn¡¯t enough. She always seemed so grown to me, but looking back, she couldn¡¯t have been more than seven or eight herself. She would always sing this lullaby for us. When we were crying, or couldn¡¯t sleep, or had nightmares. We had a lot of nightmares. But she was always there, no matter what.¡±

    ¡°It was her song, was it not? The one you sang to Aary?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s one of the very few I remember.¡±

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    ¡°I am m sorry it had to be you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡±, he looks up to the sky, ¡°I¡¯m glad I was able to give her a good death.¡±

    This time I don¡¯t argue. Not now.

    ¡°You know, there are a lot of ways to die down there. Beatings, crushed by debris, starvation, coughing up blood until your lungs drown in it. The children around me, they all died, one by one and then new ones came and those died too. Before I realized I was one of the oldest, splitting up portions together with Aneka.¡±

    I lay my hand around his shoulders.

    ¡°One day she started coughing up blood. Just a bit at first, and never Infront of the guards or small ones. But it got worse of course. Soon she couldn¡¯t work anymore. The guards just left her in the enclosure and stopped giving her rations. So we split ours. The last few weeks before she died, she was coughing so hard at night none of us could sleep. And then, one day, she just stopped and lay still.¡± His voice breaks. ¡°You know, she never cried. I never understood why until she was gone. But when she was, and I looked into the scared faces of the other children, I couldn¡¯t do it either.¡±

    I pull him in, slowly, to give him time to pull away. Instead, he leans in. Enya¡¯s shaking.

    ¡°I felt so bad when I was sold. They asked why I was leaving them, again and again. Such small frames. They must all be dead by now... ...But I was so glad to get out. I mean, look at us, I never thought I¡¯d be ever able to see the sky whenever I feel like it... I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m trying to say.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I think I understand.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. For listening.¡±

    The stars are still sparkling above us. Cold and distant.

    ¡°Do you want me to leave?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡±. It¡¯s the truth. Why?

    ¡°Okay. Tell me once you do¡±.

    I nod.

    ¡°Do you¡­ Your back what happened?¡±, he eventually says.

    I look down at the blood-soaked shirt and the wounds peeking thru from underneath: ¡°Niilan got angry.¡±

    ¡°The master doesn¡¯t punish you.¡±

    My finger wander to my throat, where the hands with which he has strangled me are still visible, blue and discolored: ¡°He doesn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I meant he doesn¡¯t flog you.¡±

    ¡°No, usually he doesn¡¯t¡±, I look up, ¡°Karas not a fighter yet. He only knows how to ambush hunt. That opponent was dead before the fight had even begun. I¡¯ve never seen Niilan so angry. He would have killed the kid if I didn¡¯t intervene.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡±

    ¡°Do you like apologizing for things you meant or aren¡¯t responsible for?¡±

    He grins: ¡°Apparently I do. But I do mean it. If I had taught him better, maybe he would have known not to do that.¡±

    ¡°That boy would have had no chance if he¡¯d tied to appease the crowd.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t teach him on purpose?¡±

    ¡°It would have just gotten him killed. Though I did hope it would not turn out as bad as it did.¡±

    ¡°You know, I just can¡¯t help but wonder if I could have done something different too. For Aary.¡±

    ¡°You did all you could. She was a wonderful girl but doomed. We both knew it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Maybe.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen you second guessing yourself.¡±

    ¡°Seems like what happened did rattle me a bit. Karas eyes¡­. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m not used to hate filled stares, it¡¯s just, it was never directed at me before.¡±

    <h2>How nice.</h2>

    ¡°I will talk to Kara. But try not to take it personally. He is grieving. Grieving people lash out.¡±

    ¡°I guess they do¡­ But please don¡¯t tell him about this¡­or the mines.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go get some water to wash your wounds.¡±

    ¡°No¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s really no problem. I don¡¯t mind¡±, he gets up.

    I grab his shoulder, just a bit harder than I intended. He flinches.

    ¡°Enya. No. I will clean them myself.¡±

    He opens his mouth as if trying to say something, but then closes it again and sits down: ¡°Okay¡±.

    Around us, the city as gone dark, the night sky blocked off by the pitch-black shadow of the walls looming above us. Once they must have been lit by torches, guards paroling them or standing still, keeping a watchful eye. Now they lay abandoned, a testament to a world that no longer exists.

    ¡°Do you know the story behind those walls?¡±, I ask.

    ¡°No, not really. Do you?¡±

    I shake my head.

    ¡°I heard they were made by humans to keep shifters out.¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t they just fly over it though?¡±

    He shrugs his shoulders: ¡°Probably had some war against each other and then later tacked it onto us.¡±

    ¡°I can see them doing that. The outside of the wall is littered with dents, and rusted anchors too. I saw it when I was brought into the city. Maybe they had some sort of additional defense layer. d¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, maybe. I saw those too.¡±

    ¡°It seems so long ago now, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t think I realized what it meant back then. That I would never see the outside world again, you know.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t even have my marks then.¡±

    He grins: ¡°No, back then you were still a cute little girl. Who knew she would grow up to be such a violent person¡±?

    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk¡±

    ¡°Oh, I wasn¡¯t the one who threatened to smash someone¡¯s head in.¡±

    I don¡¯t reply.

    ¡°Don¡¯t act like you wouldn¡¯t have done it.¡±

    ¡°No, I absolutely would have. And I still will if you ever talk to me like that again.¡±

    Enya chuckles. Amongst the quiet of the city, it sounds unnaturally loud. The clouds have parted, and the moon engulfs the entire garden in a sliver light. I drink it up, the light, the laughter, the stars and the pain. For once, I feel a genuine sadness that all those experiences will stop, thrown into a dich, half a year from now.

    ¡°Will you watch over Kara after the tournament? I know I am in no position to ask, but he needs you.¡±

    His face hardens, the boyish joy gone in an instance: ¡°I will. I promise¡±

    ¡°Thank you. If you want anything form Niilan, tell me.¡±

    ¡°Njra, I don¡¯t want that. I don¡¯t want you to have to¡­¡±

    ¡°He is going to call me anyways. Might as well get some use out of it. If you ever change your mind, say the word.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t¡±

    I give a halfhearted smile: ¡°Yes you will.¡±

    ¡°If there was anything I could do to stop him.¡± Shut the fuck up. Now suddenly. Shouldn¡¯t I be thanking him? ¡°If there¡¯s anything¡­I¡­¡±

    ¡°Enya. Don¡¯t.¡±

 Chapter 11

    It¡¯s silent in the sleeping chambre. Enya has gone down before me, so all that greets me is the occasional tossing and turning. I cross it, adjusting my body to avoid making unnecessary noise. The room in the back is small and claustrophobic, so when I close the door and the light is shut out, I have barely enough space to turn without touching the walls. I take the cloth, the bow filled with clean water and the small vile of wine I grabbed from the kitchen and begin to wash my wounds. The servants won¡¯t be happy about its absence. The coarse fabric rubs against my skin. Each time it touches the open wounds it buns and a nauseating feeling wells up inside me. I¡¯m slow, movements sloppy form fatigue and pain, having to stop every few minutes to wait for the black spots in my vision to disappear. When I¡¯m finished, I lean against the wall for just a minute, allowing myself to close my eyes, to be comforted by the darkness. Then I go to my sleeping spot.

    Kara is there, next to mine, curled up, back turned to the empty beds that separate us form the other fighters. I hunker down, preparing myself for yet another sleepless night. If the boy attacks someone in the morning and I¡¯m not awake to stop it, he¡¯s dead. Like Mykiel. Five months. His chest rises and sinks. My eyelids grow heavy. My sense of time is washed away like autumn leaves on a mountain steam. I¡¯m tired.

    I wake up panting and sick to my stomach, ripped form a world of still, pain contorted faces, unmoving eyes and too much bare skin. Fuck.My eyes dart around in a panic. The boys gone, most of the others areas well. I jump up before I¡¯m even fully awake, so fast that the world begins to spin for a moment. My gaze locks onto two fighters. They look at me with a mix of confusion and fear.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Kara?¡±, my voice is sharp and cold.

    One flinches: ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t pay attention too...¡±

    The other has built himself up as if to shield his companion: ¡°Your pet monster has gone off to train.¡± I leave without a second glance.

    Karas in the middle of the room, jumping & transforming, angry movements that leave him panting each time he lands. Some are staring at him, enthralled by the spectacle. Most look down or glance around nervously, meeting my eyes for but a second before moving on. Non look hurt.

    ¡°Kara¡±, I say. Why do you care?

    He stops and turns: ¡°What?¡±

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    ¡°We need to talk.¡±

    ¡°No we don¡¯t! If all of you want me to be a killer so bad, then at least let me train to become one in peace!¡±

    I turn to the others: ¡°All of you. Leave!¡±

    Muffled whispers erupt. Some shuffle out instantly; others complain and scoff. One person spits in my direction, but they all obey in the end, filtering out of the room one by one until the boy and I are the only ones left.

    ¡°I¡¯m doing it your way¡±, the boy gestures around, ¡°what more could you plausibly want?!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not training; you¡¯re simply wallowing in your anger.¡±

    ¡°So what if I am?!¡±

    ¡°It will get you killed.¡±

    ¡°Could you stop that for once?! I¡¯m sick of you holding my survival over my head like it¡¯s some kind of reward to get me to do your magic tricks.¡±

    ¡°Is that how you feel?¡±

    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I? Isn¡¯t that what you¡¯ve been doing since the moment I got here.¡±

    ¡°Look around you. Most people from before will probably be dead in a few years¡¯ time. Me even sooner. What makes you think you¡¯re special? I am not holding it over your head, I am trying to make you focus on what¡¯s important.¡±

    ¡°Aary¡¯s dead! Don¡¯t you care at all?!¡±

    ¡°It does not matter if I do. Grieve for her, take your time.¡± A little more. ¡°But acting like this for anyone, let alone a dead girl will be your doom. And what for? I won¡¯t do her any good.¡±

    ¡°She has a name you know!¡±

    ¡°She had one.¡±

    ¡°FUCK YOU! You make yourself out to be some sort of protector. But I saw the way you and Enya exchanged glances. If he didn¡¯t kill her, you would¡¯ve!¡±

    ¡°Then what would you have done? Let Niilan send his guards? Do you honestly think that would have been better for her?¡±

    ¡°He KILLED her Njra!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re killers, all of us. Get off your high horse.¡±

    He throws a dagger at me. It ricochets off the wall several meters next to me: ¡°FUCK!¡±

    What are you doing? His emotions will kill him. This isn¡¯t helping. He must learn! Three months. I close my eyes. The darkness it creates calms the screaming mess in my head. Let the anger teach him then. ¡°You want to train?¡±, I say, ¡°Then let¡¯s spar.¡±

 Chapter 12

    The boys¡¯ eyes are burning up with rage, ready to tear me apart like a wolf does a deer, not for its survival but simply to revel in the pain the seeping twitching mass beneath you must feel. It¡¯s the most fighting spirit I have seen in him since he¡¯s arrived. The masses will love it.

    Kara lunges towards me, transforming his legs for a sudden boost of speed. I jump to the side, roll over my shoulder and grab two knifes for the weapon stand now in reach. The sound of the boy crashing into a wall echoes thru the chambre. As I turn the boy has already steadied himself. I run towards him, he falls back, transforming into a crow. Now. I hurl my knife, giving it a twist so it starts to turn. Kara dives to the side. Too slow. It crashes into his right wind, sending him into a tailspin. The shrieking bundle of feathers spirals down, all orientation and special awareness gone. My hand shoots forward, gripping his head form behind, bringing him down, pinning him against the ground with the second knife before he has time to react.

    ¡°Your dead¡±, I say.

    He glares at me and shrinks. My body reacts before I do, motions trained and executed to the point of muscle memory. I press down and cut. If the knife had been sharp, if it hadn¡¯t been a training weapon, the boy would now be gurgling, chocking on his own blood, but as it is, nothing but a bruised line will remain. He¡¯s gone mad. What did you expect? Karas now shrunken form escapes form under the knife, changing back to a human, just for him to stagger back further, clutching his throat, gasping for air. When the boy looks up, fear has crept into his hate filled, furry contorted face. But he does not stop. Instead he transforms, skin splitting, pelt growing, face deforming until the small slender boy has almost been replaced by a hulking beast. I reach him before the transformation is complete. His head snaps at me, startled, claws swiping at my direction. I doge under them, to the side where the boys attack has left his still half transformed flank wide open. I throw my transformed weight against it, sending him stumbling. He tries to complete his transformation, hoping to stop his fall. Concentration momentarily divided, my foot crashes into him. The moment his body hits the cold floor, it begins to morph. But I¡¯m faster. In a second I¡¯m above him, knife pressed against the boy: ¡°Are you done?¡±

    He transforms back into a human, fingers searching for the first dagger lying somewhere next to us. I kick out of reach. At that moment his hand slams against my back, clawing at the wounds, reopening them. The pain comes crashing down on me like a wave, hot and burning, taking away my breath, leaving my vision blurry and mind hazed. Somewhere far off I can feel Kara squeezing out from under the knife. Kill him. This time I manage to not cut.

    I get up, press down the pain. Even if it¡¯s not a real fight, staying like this is dangerous. Across form me the boy is panting. Eyes locked he walks over and picks up a knife. I give him the curtesy. Both of us are waiting for the other person to make a mistake. He falterers first, throwing what he just picked up and charging towards me. His eyes are locked on the spot just next to me. Too obvious. We¡¯ll have to fix that. I narrow in on the blade, wait until it¡¯s just within reach and push it to the side with my arm. The boy wisps past me, claws tearing into the place where I would have dodged to. Instead, I turn and slam my hand on the back of his neck. He crumbles, hands and knees hitting the floor.

    ¡°Ready to give up?¡±

    ¡°Fuck you!¡±

    My heel strikes him on the middle of his forehead. He¡¯s flung back, impacting hard. A small trickle of blood has formed where his skin split. He tries to stand up, staggers, then I¡¯m on top of him, knife pressed against his throat once more: ¡°Your dead.¡±

    He flings a punch, but I catch his hand.

    ¡°Don¡¯t teat me like a child¡±, he screams.

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    ¡°Then prove to me you aren¡¯t one¡±, I say.

    Kara leans forward, trying to slam his head into mine. I draw back. Fine. I strike him on the side of his neck. Finally, he goes limp.

    I wipe away the blood, prop him up. He looks much younger like this, and smaller. The bruise on his forehead will be purple for a while. The one on his chest too. On his throat, the line has already begun to darken.

    I sit down next to him and wait. It takes a bit for the boy to come to, glancing around in a panic before his eyes land on me and he settles down: ¡°My head hurts¡±.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go get a cold towel.¡±

    ¡°Fuck that towel! Are you even a bit sorry?¡±

    ¡°What for?¡±

    ¡°Everything!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    His face contorts in anger and his body tenses. Mine does as well. But then, instead of attacking, he simply sighs and leans back: ¡°I want you to stop holding back.¡±

    ¡°No¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t properly transformed a single time during our fight. How am I supposed to survive in the arena if I don¡¯t learn how to fight against that¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t learn anything if I nock you unconscious as soon as the fight starts. I will stat transforming once you defeat me when I am not¡±

    ¡°I was trying, in case you haven¡¯t noticed.¡±

    ¡°Ready for another round?¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re trying to make me feel better, you¡¯re doing a horrible job.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to.¡±

    ¡°Then what exactly are you trying to accomplish?¡±

    ¡°Teach you how to fight.¡±

    ¡°And how¡¯s that going?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re improving.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯ve just forgiven you for what happened yesterday.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me or do not, it is not my choice to make.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re horrible. Both of you¡±

    I don¡¯t answer.

    ¡°Look. It¡¯s not like I don¡¯t understand why you did it. But I can¡¯t just unsee it. Each time I think of Aary all I can see is Enya snapping her neck¡­ and you just watching¡±.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It must have been hard to watch.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Yes it was! But you know, at least with you, I expected as much. At least you didn¡¯t pretend. But with Enya ¡­ How can he just accept it like this? After all the memories they shared?¡±

    ¡°The highest ranked fighters get the most trainees.¡±

    ¡°Good for them. But what does that have to with Enya killing his?¡±

    ¡°Listen¡±, I take a deep breath, ¡°the highest ranked fighters get the most trainees. The first one I got was a girl, almost my age. I was barely done being a trainee myself. She was kind. And shy. And then she died. I can¡¯t even remember her name. And then new ones came, and new ones died. In the beginning I tried, I really did, to get to know them, to help and to comfort. But each time I would look at them all I saw was a corpse. So I stopped: only did what was required of me, never even asked their names. In the end, I got Niilan to stop giving me new ones. Enya can¡¯t do that. All the ones I do not train, he gets instead. None of us chose to be the person to bring the lamb to the slaughterhouse. I know it does not feel like it, but he really did try to give her a good last few month¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I can look at it that way.¡±

    ¡°That is okay. I just wanted you to know.¡±

    ¡°Can I have that towel now. Please¡±

 Chapter 13

    ¡°What¡¯s your favorite animal?¡±

    ¡°To transform into?¡±

    ¡°Yes to transform into.¡±

    I shrug: ¡°Not sure. What¡¯s yours?¡±

    ¡°Hm¡­. I like crows. They give you a good overview. Your fast and agile and no matter the surrounding, they always fit. And also,¡± he looks down at the bowl mush, "they eat meat.¡±

    ¡°Still on about that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why you aren¡¯t. Anyways, I¡¯ve been thinking¡­¡±

    ¡°Not bad¡±

    ¡°Fuck off. No for real, we could just fly out to a field and grab a rabbit or two. There plenty right outside the city. I saw them when they brought us.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not allowed¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that¡±

    ¡°Trust me, if Niilan finds out, whatever he¡¯ll do won¡¯t be worth a good bite or two¡±

    ¡°But what if he never found out. It won¡¯t take more than a few hours¡±

    I don¡¯t give him the dignity of a reply.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it, just you see. And then you¡¯ll be begging me for a good bite two.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t stop me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious. Don¡¯t. All the trade from and to the city is brought to the gates, even the ones that fly. They must have a reason¡±

    ¡°Like they ever needed those before¡±

    ¡°I think I like phenixes¡±

    ¡°Hm?!¡±

    ¡°You asked what my favorite animal is. I like phenixes¡±

    ¡°I give up¡±

    I shrug.

    ¡°So, why do you like phenixes then?¡±

    ¡°My mom always talked about them. She was convinced that they were our true form, bound in eternal transformation of life. Back when we were still gods. I¡¯m not sure if I believe her, but the idea is charming¡±

    ¡°She had a lot of cool stories. Your mom.¡±

    ¡°She did.¡± A bit later I add: ¡°I have a fight in a week¡±.

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    ¡°Getting cold feet?¡±

    ¡°No. But I won¡¯t have time to train you. If you want to stick close and observe do, if not: don¡¯t¡±

    ¡°Ay ay. Does that mean you¡¯ll wear one of those stupid arena outfits as well?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it? Come on. Where do you have it, I wanna see it!¡±

    ¡°No¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a buzz kill. Come on gonna be funny¡±

    ¡°That is not a very good reason.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Very well. I, Kara of whatever, promise to practice the entire day¡±

    ¡°Good thing you were going to do that regardless¡±

    ¡°Come on. What do you want? It¡¯s not like I have any possessions I could give you¡±

    I get up.

    ¡°I¡¯m not gonna give you my food portion!¡±

    ¡°How about a favor then?¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not very useful. There¡¯s not much I could do; you can¡¯t do yourself¡±

    ¡°I will make it work¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not gonna kill anybody for you¡±. His voice is suddenly laced with bitterness.

    What? I bat my eyes. Once. Then Twice. ¡°I meant something small. But if you don¡¯t want to see it, fine by be.¡±

    He sulks, the expression from before gone again: ¡°Fuck you!!!¡±

    ¡°Was that a yes, or no?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Now show me that outfit!¡±

    It¡¯s a tacky thing, uncomfortable and useless. Big billowing pants and a more form fitting upper part, exposing my left shoulder and most of my arms as well as part of my torso. They like to see the wounds.

    Like all Niilans fighters, its entirely white. But where theirs is undyed cream color, mine is artificially brightened. In contrast my skin seems even darker, shadows given form. It¡¯s the only thing I like about the outfit.

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair!¡±, he says, ¡°why does yours actually look cool!¡±

    ¡°Does it?¡±

    He grabs the cloth: ¡°it¡¯s better than mine at least¡±

    ¡°Main fighter perks I guess.¡±

    ¡°That waist thing is really stupid though!¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    Footsteps

    The boy turns: ¡°I¡¯ll get those perks from you. Just you wait¡±.

    As he opens the door, he almost walks into Enya.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±, Kara says.

    ¡°Can we talk?¡±

    ¡°Fuck off!¡±, the boy says, as he tries to squeeze past him.

    ¡°Kara. I wanted to say I¡¯m sorry. I should¡¯ve given you time to grieve and process first¡±

    The boys shoulder slams into Enya, forcing him to take a step back so Kara can pass: ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear me: FUCK OFF!¡± Then he¡¯s off, slamming the sleeping chambre door behind him. A few of the other¡¯s wince. Most pretend not to hear.

    Enya steps inside, shuts them out: ¡°I didn¡¯t realize it would hurt him so much.¡±

    I don¡¯t reply.

    ¡°I knew it would be hard on him but¡­¡±

    ¡°It is the first person he lost like this¡±

    ¡°I guess. But I don¡¯t know what more to do.¡±

    I open the door: ¡°If that is everything, I have to go train¡±,

    His hand presses it shut: ¡°Njra please. I want to talk this out.¡±

    ¡°I know¡±, then I force the door open. Two months.

 Chapter 14

    The next morning is quiet. At least in our corner of the sleeping chambre. The others laugh, bicker or gossip, filling the room with an air of lightheartedness the both of us will forever be barred form. Enya did try to join us, but Karas stare made it abundantly clear that he was not welcome. He had tried to search my gaze, but I kept my head lowered. Childish. And so he left, joining his friends.

    I didn¡¯t realize just how draining being part of a group had been, them joking and laughing. And me joking with them. Now it was quiet, the wall between the world and me restored.

    A nock rings out, the noise quiets down. The servant doesn¡¯t even open the door: ¡°549 Njra¡±.

    Closing the door behind me, the whispering instantly softens, thought it takes shutting the door in the servant corridor for them to fade completely.  The eyes of the woman leading me are locked on the ground. ¡°Whats your name?¡±, I ask.

    She doesn¡¯t answer of course, just mumbles an excuse and wisps off. Finally I¡¯m alone. Before me looms the giant oak door, carvings running along its side. Even if I were to gouge out my eyes, I don¡¯t think I could ever forget them. A hundred figures contorted in just as many poses, each of them examined again and again to buy a few precious moments before entering. I take a deep breath, adjust my body and slip in.

    Niilan sits at his desk, hunched over plans, letters and reports, strewn about where once they had been in neatly organized piles. I cross the room, lean over his shoulders and wrap my hands around him: ¡°Is there something on your mind master?¡±

    He sights. A long and exacerbated sound, done just to garner sympathy: ¡°I¡¯m done for...¡±  Pathetic.

    I nestle my head in the nook between shoulder and head: ¡°That bad? May I ask what happened?¡±

    ¡°The blintlant mine has gone dry. Four, that¡¯s all I have left now.¡±

    I look over his shoulder. On the map laid out in front of him, it¡¯s crossed out, ink still wet. The paper is littered with crosses, some in ink almost as washed out as that on the map itself, others fresh and dark. It must have been a long time since someone marked more mines than they crossed out. How about the other masters?

    ¡°You¡¯re so unlucky! First the tournament, and now blintlant as well¡±, I say.

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    He leans back, runs his finger thru my hair. Break them.

    ¡°I know!  At least the others aren¡¯t doing any better. The maiad family had to close a big one just last year. If this carries on, the council will have to open their own mines to the market or were in deep trouble.¡±

    ¡°The council has silver?¡±

    ¡°Yes. But they won¡¯t tell us were. They guard that secret better than their own prisons. Whenever there¡¯s a shortage, they sell it off to exorbitant prices. Or loyalty. Or amies. But it¡¯s too little. If they just sold the location instead, wed might actually get enough to be of some use.¡± Niilan stands up: ¡°I almost forgot, you have a fight in a week, I switched you with the useless wildling. I expect you to be at your best. I have a meeting with one of the councils¡¯ inner circle. If everything goes well, who knows, maybe I can be the one that gets the rights to the location once it becomes public.¡±

    I nod and smile. He goes to lay on his bed and waits for me to join. I obey. He presses heavy against my side, hands wrapping around my waist, long fingernails, groomed to useless perfection, dig into my skin. I move mine over his, same nails on slender fingers, soft hands which even he had to know could never be my real ones. A distorted mirror pinned down on top of him, feigning pleasure when really it shattered with every touch.

    I roll over, positioning my boy in just the way for his hands slip off: ¡°You seem tired¡±.

    ¡°I am¡±, he lets himself sink further into the bed, ¡°I¡¯ve been working the entire day. Barely had enough time to eat.¡±

    ¡°Should I ask a servant to bring something to help you sleep?¡±

    He cups my cheeks, grins: ¡°You¡¯re not getting rid of me that easily¡±

    Kill him. I giggle: ¡°You do me wrong. I was simply concerned.¡±

    ¡°You know, Maryln asked for you. Apparently you have caught the fancy of her youngest daughter.¡±

    I have to force my body to not flinch at the words. No. Not again.

    ¡°What did you say?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t decided yet. But she¡¯s willing to invest quite a bit.¡±

    I place my leg between his thighs. The feeling of his skin pressed against mine makes my entire blood run cold. I give a soft smile: ¡°Whatever you desire, I will gladly do. But if it¡¯s of any consequence... I¡¯d like to stay by your side.¡±

    ¡°Very well. I never could resist you.¡± His finger trace over my scars: covered in cloth, twice healed and twice ripped open: ¡°Its a shame. You had such beautiful skin. But you gave me no choice, you do understand that? It¡¯s not like I wanted to do it.¡±

    ¡°Of course. I¡¯m grateful that in your kindness, you speared me more.¡±

    He kisses me. Defiles the smile perpetually carved onto my lips. I remember when I was younger they used to tremble each time he did. They don¡¯t anymore, they haven¡¯t for a long time.

 Chapter 15

    The next week passes in the fog of repetition and mundanity. I train for my upcoming fight. Kara ignores Enya. I am glad each time it gives me a reason to do the same. The whispers of the others grow louder, now that the protective blanked of Enya¡¯s and Aary¡¯s presence is gone. Kara is still bothered by it, I don¡¯t care.

    ¨C

    It¡¯s night. In two days I¡¯ll stand in the arena. The training chambre is dark, and even with enhanced eyes I can only make out traces of the room¡¯s equipment. An edge of a training doll here, a silhouette before the wall there. It hones the senses. Maybe that¡¯s why I hear the footsteps so early. I recognize them, have heard them enough to know who¡¯s coming. I¡¯m out of breath, my body filled with the remnants of pain relentless transformation has burned into me. My dry panting and his booming footsteps fill the air. Enya pushes the door open.

    ¡°I was looking for you. Can we talk?¡±, he says.

    ¡°I already gave you my answer¡±

    ¡°Can I light the torches?¡±

    ¡°This place isn¡¯t mine. Do as you please.¡±

    He feels his way along the wall, almost stumbling twice before reaching the torches. He strikes the two pieces of metal together; sparks fly before the fire begins to flicker, pushing back the shadow blanket I have wrapped myself in.

    ¡°Finally. A lot more homely now, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    I turn my head, I adjust my eyes back, revel in the clearly of momentary pain as my eyes warp. Then I begin gather the weapons strewn over the floor.

    ¡°Look. Please let¡¯s just talk this out. If there¡¯s a problem in the way I behave, tell me. I¡¯ll work on it. but I can¡¯t if you just ignore me¡±, he says.

    ¡°Who said there was one?¡±

    ¡°Kara¡¯s been avoiding me like the plague, not that I don¡¯t know why. But you¡¯re giving me the cold shoulder too¡­ I don¡¯t understand. I thought we had a good conversation on the wall. One that¡¯ll bring us closer. Instead, you draw away.¡±

    ¡°We agreed to mentor Kara and Aary together. She¡¯s dead now. The talk on that wall was nice, but the arrangement we had is done.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re my friend! I¡¯m not gonna let it just fizzle out¡±

    I turn to walk away. But before I can, his hand shoots out, grabs my shoulder, forces me around: ¡°Can you just talk to me, please?!¡±

    His hand feels like it''s searing into my flesh. A burning sensation that non the less makes my body run cold, inflicted force it¡¯s all too familiar with. Kill him. Break him. I do neither. Instead, I freeze.

    There¡¯s a woman standing in the floor, perfectly still, eyes wide and non-responsive. The man across from her is opening and closing his mouth. I feel dizzy. He¡¯s shaking her, seems to be agitated. The woman tenses and presses her eyes shut. He drops her, takes two steps back.

    It takes a while for the woman to open her eyes. For me to open them with her.

    Enya stands at the other side of the room, staring at me with terror, and something else I can only liken to pity.

    ¡°Leave¡±, I say. It bothers me how weak it sounds.

    ¡°What just happened, is that¡­?¡±

    ¡°You are smart. You know what happened.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t know it was that bad¡­ If there¡¯s anything I can do...?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Leave.¡±

    ¡°So that you can go on ignoring me? I¡¯m your friend. You¡¯re obviously not okay, we can¡­¡±

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    ¡°You said I should thank the guy that¡¯s raping me. I let it go. You promised to look after the boy when I die. And for that you will have your favor. I promised to talk to Kara on your behalf. I did. And still, instead of being grateful you trail after me like a hurt puppy demanding to be pet. Tell me, what makes you think you have the right to demand my friendship?¡±

    ¡°I...¡±, he looks down, ¡°It doesn¡¯t. I¡¯m sorry. I just want you to know that I think of you as my friend. And if you¡¯d ever want to, I¡¯d like to become yours as well.¡±

    I don¡¯t answer.

    He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Just nods and leaves, finally leaving me in silence.

    ¨C

    White hot sand and the smell of blood surround me. Thousands of people are yelling and demanding more. Strength and anticipation is pulsing thru every strand of my body, edging me on. I¡¯ve missed it. I take everything in, my opponent, the weapon placements, Niilans seat. Today must be his meeting. Let¡¯s give them a show.

    My opponent is hulking, dark brown hair and eyes staring at me with hunger. I adjust, smaller frame and stronger legs, giving me the speed and mobility I¡¯ll be thankful for. He charges, I dart to the left, grabbing two daggers. My fingers clutch around the hilts just before his gigantean form crashes thru the weapon stand, sending weapon and shields flying. I roll to duck as a warhammer lands where I¡¯ve been a few seconds ago. I throw the knife; use the cover it gives me to get up and charge. Mid run I drop the second dagger. His eyes snap towards it. I transform into a jaguar, use its hind legs to boost my jump: he has no time to doge. And not the body for it either. Instead, he stands firm, catching me and holding me off with raw strength. I fume, snap at his face, roar and hiss.The black of my fur stands in stark contrast to the sand and my opponent¡¯s body. Visible even from the heights rows. The man¡¯s leg swings for a kick. I shrink and his foot connects with nothing but air. He turns around, rage and confusion on his face, not noticing the small fly that has landed on his shoulder. I jump, rip him into the air with me as giant wings sprout from my back and talons tear into his flesh. He screams. First in pain and then in anger before it warps as his body begins to expand. No. I let go. He plummets, barely managing to finish before hitting the ground. I don¡¯t give him the time to recover, crash down on top of him, weight enhanced. Hooves dig into his back. He swipes for me feet, but I have already lifted myself up into the air again.

    He scrambles away, clutching his ribs, fumbling to pick up the hammer on the floor. Then I¡¯m on top of him, pushing him further back until his pinned against the wall. For the first time I see fear in his eyes. The crowed cheers. The man swings his fist, I dodge the blow and dig my knee into his stomach. When he gasps, there¡¯s blood in his mouth. I take a step back, fly into the air, wait to see if he follows. He doesn¡¯t, just topples over and tries to breath. The cowed begins to hurl insults. I soar up into the sky, pass by the faces fast enough that they blur until I¡¯ve reached the boxed seats. Niilan¡¯s talking to someone who''s transfixed on the scene, on me. Barely visible on his lab Niilan holds up three fingers. Fine. I dive down, stop just shy above my opponent. The crowed is seething with anger demanding him to get up. He struggles onto one leg, then both, looks up and begins to transform.

    He takes off, his flight irregular and lopsided. I draw him higher and higher. He¡¯s trying to catch up, I give I¡¯m the curiosity. His eyes snap towards my wing, flying towards me, talons outstretched, trying to rip it off. I shrink it, use the tilt this puts me in to drop to his unprotected weak point. My talons connect with his chest, pricing, drawing blood. He tries to catch them, but they¡¯re already gone. I draw back and he follows close behind, two birds chasing each other, tight turns after tight turns. Beneath scarlet drops fall and sicker into the sand. With each beat of his wings, they grow slower, multiple times they almost give out before he manages to catch himself. In the end is him who lands first, panting and shaking, hands trying to stop the bleeding. I follow, reverting to human form. They like that. I look around for the dagger I dropped in the beginning, position myself so it''s behind me. Then I take in a defensive positron and wait. My opponent staggers back instead, eyes daring around the crowd, the panic carved into his features. High up in the box seats a man has sprung to his feet, screaming something that¡¯s drowned out. He¡¯s pointing, my opponent is shaking his head franticly. I can¡¯t hear what the man says next, but the effects are instant. Blinding light tinges the colosseum in shades of crimson. My opponents body grows stiff, his eyes widen. He turns, movements mechanic and jerking. I feign to stagger back. The light fades, my opponent charges with the desperation of a cornered animal. He swipes, I dodge. As I roll over, I clasp the blade now in my reach. I¡¯m panting too, purposely louder and more obvious to justify not getting up. He buys it. So does the crowed. He runs towards me, teeth fletched, eyes ready to kill. Instead, I jump up, burry the knife deep within one. It pops, liquid and blood spilling out of the hole in his face, wetting his fur. He screams, roars, a sound that is both and neither. It¡¯s unbearably loud. I stager on top of him, drive it deeper into his skull: Until his noise stops than that of the cowed begins. I get up, hold the dagger into the air. One. Two. Three. Then I¡¯m allowed to drop it. I kneel, still breathing heavily, place three transformed claws onto his face, run them gently down the bodies face and pray our ancestors may take him back. It¡¯s the only way I know how to: crocked and wrong. Two months.

    Up the stairs and thru the dimly lit seating area Niilan is waiting. With him is the man from before, olive skin and dark curls that closer resemble a statue than those of a real person. Over his heart, holding together pristine robes, clasps a silver disk brooch. His hands wander up, reflexively fixes it as he nods along with Niilan¡¯s empty words: ¡°Please give it a thought. This proposal would give the city, no the republic, the stability and prosperity is so richly deserves.¡±

    ¡°No need beat about the bush¡±, he makes direct eye contact, ¡°Niilan, son of Kieran. We both know what you meant to imply. Non the less: I am impressed by your fervor. I shall pass your proposal on to the council.¡±

    ¡°That is all I can ask for¡±, Niilan bows his head, ¡°you have my deepest thank¡±.

 Chapter 16

    I breath in the warm, stuffy air of the fighters¡¯ quarters. Their chatters have died, eyes pricing into and thru me. I turn to see Enya looking at my blood covered body with a familiar mixture of unease and pity. He wants to get up but a fighter next to him shakes their head.

    ¡°I¡¯d go check on Kara if I were you. He¡¯s been pacing the training chambre all day¡±, he says instead.

    I nod and escape the staring eyes and candles light.

    It takes a while until I¡¯m clean. Longer until I feel so as well. And so, when I enter the training chambre, the sun must have already set. Maybe part of me had hoped Kara would¡¯ve settled down. Pathetic. He shoots around as I enter: ¡°How was it?¡±.

    ¡°Same as always¡±

    ¡°Of course you¡¯d say that. Why did I even ask?¡±

    ¡°How was training?¡±

    ¡°Bad¡±

    ¡°That much I have been told¡±

    ¡°Look, that¡¯s not¡­If you¡¯re gone, I¡¯m fucked¡±.

    ¡°I won¡¯t be¡±

    ¡°That sounded different last time¡±

    ¡°In two months, you will be fine without me¡±

    ¡°No. I won¡¯t be. I¡¯m not talking about fighting and you know it.¡±

    ¡°Mykiel was gone earlier. You will get used to it¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t. I¡¯m not like you Njra. I can¡¯t be alone again.¡±

    I look down.

    ¡°Whatever¡±. He nods to a puppet, wooden arms swaying form left to right: ¡°Can you help me with my transformation? I can¡¯t get them to properly work in a fight.¡±

    ¡°Show me¡±.

    His form begins to expand, face contorting, mouth splitting further and further, bones rearranging themselves, as soon as it stops the shifting beginnings anew: shrinking, extending or merging, again and again. He¡¯s fast, has become even faster. In time it could come to rival my own. Lucky Niilan.

    ¡°The pace is good, your precision needs work: Now show me how you would use it¡±.

    He changes at the dummy, pinning it under massive claws.

    ¡°Why is speed important while transforming?¡± I ask.

    ¡°You¡¯re vulnerable whilst transforming. So the quicker the better.¡±

    ¡°Then why transform at all?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not in the mood for guessing games. Just tell what you wanna say!¡±

    ¡°Every fighter can transform. A shorter time of vulnerability alone is not worth the price they pay for us¡±

    ¡°Okay?¡±

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    ¡°Speed is valuable because it allows us to transform in close combat.¡±

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t I already doing that?¡±

    ¡°Prop up that dummy¡±

    I run forward, transform into a panther, jump, then, just out of reach of the dummy¡¯s hand I suddenly transform again and spread my winds, shifting my speed and line of attack, tear it into the air by its face.

    ¡°That was cool! How did you do it? I wanna learn that one¡±

    ¡°After the basics.¡±

    The palm of my hand shoots towards the boy. Instinctively he dodges to the left.

    ¡°Good. Next time dodge by transforming into something smaller¡±

    I reach out a second time and his form begins to shrink. Too slow. I catch his wing mid transformation.

    ¡°Again¡±, I say.

    This time he fares better, and his transformation is almost done before I grab him.

    ¡°Again¡±

    The third time I clutch him by the face: ¡°Try changing your position whilst you shrink. Again¡±

    And like this the evening passes and bleeds into night, until the few other fighters filter out of the chambre and Karas panting is filling the entire room. Until he is satisfied enough to retire as well.

    -

    My own scream, pricing and too loud, rips me from my dreams. I bolt upright, eying those in the room. Most are already gone and those left know to ignore it. We all have our demons down here, even demons themselves.

    I stand up, force my body to take in the air it so desperately refuses. It struggles, convulses, freezes before finally giving in. Like it always does. I gulp down the food and go train.

    I find the boy there, having picked up from where we left off last night.

    ¡°I almost had it. Let me try again¡±, he says to a towering woman.

    She came in half a year ago, though I don¡¯t know her name. Do you know any? I always held her for the grounded, reserved type, never seemed to get along with Alinta and the other talkers. She notices me and flinches.

    ¡°Astra, you good? Come on let¡¯s go¡±

    She turns to Kara, swings a halfhearted punch. It goes wide.

    ¡°Just one more, okay? After that we can switch¡±

    ¡°I should go¡±.

    ¡°Where? There¡¯s legit nothing else to do!¡±

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be doing this. Sorry kid¡±, then she¡¯s off, leaving a stunned Kara in her wake.

    He turns to me: ¡°What the fuck was that?¡±

    I shrug.

    ¡°You appear and suddenly she needs to go.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a wildling¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware¡±

    ¡°That woman just took the first excuse to get away¡±

    ¡°Not true¡±

    ¡°If you say so¡±.

    He scoffs.

    ¡°What was that anyway?¡±, I ask.

    ¡°You mean the training?¡±

    ¡°You can do that alone.¡±

    ¡°What if I don¡¯t want to?¡±

    ¡°Did you learn nothing from Aary¡¯s death?¡±

    ¡°DON¡¯T TAKE HER NAME IN YOUR FILTHY MOUTH!¡±

    All heads turn to us. The child lacks respect. It lacks fear.

    I shrug and walk away.

    It takes an hour until Kara cracks and comes crawling.

    ¡°Breakfast was half an hour late today¡±, he says.

    ¡°Odd¡±

    ¡°I know right. So a few of the others went up to see for themselves. And the servants said they forgot. Like actually forgot. The house was swarming like a wasp¡¯s nest.¡±

    I don¡¯t answer.

    ¡°You think it¡¯s bad news?¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡±

 Chapter 17

    The sun is low when we are summoned, even lower by the time we hear footsteps approach. The door swings open and Niilan emerges followed by important servants. Next to him, shoulder to shoulder, stands someone new. Someone dangerous. Their clothes are lavish but hastily adjusted to their new owner¡¯s size. Where Niilan is small and stocky, the stranger is long and spindly, long dark hair contrast with Niilan¡¯s dirty red, lighter skin though both have freckles.

    I know it before they say it. They have the same eyes.

    ¡°Niilan, son of Kieran and his long-awaited child, Daira¡±, an announcer proclaims, ¡°after their long travel we are beyond happiness for their safe return.¡±

    Niilan steps forward: ¡°You will treat Daira with the same devotion as you do me. Nothing of this will reach the other houses until I say so. You are dismissed.¡±

    Some clap, most bow, all look at each other nervously and stifle murmurs about their new master until out of earshot. I look up and lock eyes with the old one. His expression is enough to tell me I won¡¯t be able to join them. When the crowd has dispersed I walk over, head bowed.

    Niilan wraps his harm around Daira and starts walking back to the house. There¡¯s a tenderness in his touch I didn¡¯t think him capable off.

    ¡°I assume this is a lot to take in. If there¡¯s anything we can do to make you feel more at home, anything at all, just say the word.¡±, then adds, ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re back.¡±

    Daira smiles: ¡°Thank you father¡±.

    ¡°Your room has already been shown to you I presume. Food will be delivered in an hour.¡±. His sounds awkward. ¡°Oh yes¡±, he grabs my chin and lifts it up: ¡°This is my best ranked fighter. She¡¯s quite pleasant company. Feel free to call her or any other whenever you wish. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll help you settle in in no time¡±

    ¡°Thank you but that won¡¯t be necessary¡±

    Niilan laughs: ¡°No false modesty my child. I can only imagine how deprived of proper comfort you must have lived.¡±

    I go over, link my arm into theirs and smile up and the stranger.

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it¡±, Niilan says.

    What had been the best guest chambre yesterday has been hastily refurnished into something fitting of Niilan¡¯s heir. In the pristine room the dirty bundles and bags in the corner seem strangely out of place.

    I lead Daira to the bed, wait for them to sit down before I do so as well. They¡¯re stiff as a bord.

    ¡°I cannot help but notice that you seem tense. Is there anything I can do to help?¡±

    Their eyes just stare, amber eyes, the eyes of his father, the eyes I saw this morning. Poor little girl. Are you afraid?

    I put my hand on his thigh, skin against fabric. He slaps it way. My entire body runs cold, freezes me in place.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡±, they say, words stumbling over themselves.

    I can beardly bring myself to shake my head: ¡°Please do not apologize. It was my fault to presume¡­ If you do not mind me asking. Where did you travel too?¡±

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    ¡°Anywhere really, as long as it was far far away.¡±

    ¡°It must have been beautiful.¡±

    ¡°It was. Ugly too sometimes. Often really. But I think that¡¯s part of the appeal¡±

    ¡°Truly?¡±

    ¡°Yes! It¡¯s what makes it exiting. Real¡±

    ¡°You are very insightful. I do not think I have ever heard a master talk about travel in these terms¡±

    ¡°What about shifters?¡±

    ¡°Our purpose is not to travel.¡±

    ¡°I saw a lot traveling across the lands with their masters¡±

    I smile: ¡°They must see many things then. Most shifter I know, I¡¯m sorry to disappoint, have never left the safety of this city.¡±

    ¡°But you have?¡±

    ¡°I am a wildling. Though I was very young when captured.¡±

    ¡°Really?! I wouldn¡¯t have guessed by your mannerisms. Tell me, what do you know of your ancestors?¡±

    ¡°Nothing I¡¯m afraid. If I may, how where the places you traveled too?¡±

    And so Daira tells me. They talk about other customs and laws, about places you can only cross by giant eagle, lakes filled with rocks and water stretching farther than the eye can see. About the people they got to know and just as many they were glad they didn¡¯t. About a girl named Cameria, longing in their eyes.

    As the words flow, supplemented by unobtrusive words of affirmation and questions, my mind begins to wonder, out the large window and up into the sky. You can see parts of the mountains looming in the distance, the garden of the mansion below. In daylight it loses the bit of nature¡¯s mystique it reclaims at night, like everything else in this city, it has simply become a testament to humanities desire to control. I will have to find a new place on the wall to not be seen.

    Night sets, dinner has been served and taken away, I can feel my own the huger welling up. And yet still they continue to talk and not touch. I continue to wait and dread.

    When they allow me to leave my mind has already frozen up under amber eyes. I stagger out. Downstairs Alinta¡¯s sleeping box is empty.

    -

    It takes two days until I¡¯m called again. I slip into Daira¡¯s chambre half expecting Niilan to sit there. He doesn¡¯t of course. Since his child has made me their plaything he has made do with others. It won¡¯t last long. We both know it.

    I sit down next to Daira on the bed and smile.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to call for you¡±, they say.

    I jump up: ¡°I am so sorry. May I ask who was meant to be called? I shall inform them at once.¡±

    They grab my hand to pull me down. My body follows the force like a children¡¯s doll.

    ¡°No that¡¯s not what I meant. I did want you. It¡¯s just¡­ I¡¯m sure you have more important things to worry about¡±, Daira says.

    <h2>Then why did you call? </h2>

    ¡°What more important things could there be? If you wish for my company I will gladly come¡±.

    ¡°Do you mean it?¡±

    ¡°Of course¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I wanted to say this before. You don¡¯t have to do this if you don¡¯t want to. None of it¡±

    It takes all the control I still have over my body to not laugh in their face. Instead, I place my hand on their chest, slowly, so they have time to draw away: ¡°Your consideration honors you, but this is what I am for.¡±

    ¡°Someone I loved said those things too. It took a year until she trusted me with the truth¡±

    I try to say something but they shush me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t. I do not wish to hear those prepackaged phrases. I won¡¯t do anything. I promise.¡± Liar

    ¡°Okay¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a ball father wishes me to attend¡±, they say after a while.

    ¡°He seems proud to introduce you to the world¡±

    ¡°He is! Since I¡¯ve come back, he has been nothing but attentive. I think he is trying to make up for the past¡±

    ¡°How do you feel about it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I¡¯m trying not think about it.¡±

    I nod: ¡°Are you exited to go to the ball?¡±

    ¡°I must admit I¡¯m rather nervous¡±

    ¡°Truly?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I had to use the manners of high society. And father will have made sure I won¡¯t be able to sit in a corner and wait it out.¡±

    I put on a shy chuckle: ¡°Perhaps not. But you are a very eloquent speaker. There is no need to worry.¡±

    ¡°I am? It does not feel like it¡±

    ¡°You are! And small talk is easy: You just have to say what the other person expects to hear¡±

    ¡°Is that what you do?¡± Idiot.

    ¡°Not with you¡±, I smile.

 Chapter 18

    Astra and Kara are sitting together, like they¡¯ve done for the last couple of days, first in silence before reluctant conversation had become the norm. I walk by. He gestures me over. My first instinct is swayed by his expression: This is important to him. I sit down, watch as the woman uncomfortably shimmies to the side.

    ¡°Astra this is Njra. Njra this is Astra.¡±

    ¡°I know¡±, she says.

    I say nothing at all.

    ¡°Come on. Give each other a chance. I know you¡¯ll get along.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s everything¡±, I turn to get up.

    Karas hand shoots out to pull me back down. My body obeys before I can resist.

    ¡°Give it a try. For me¡±.

    Astra gives me a tentative smile: ¡°Hello¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this¡±, I say.

    Relive washes over her face before she scrambles to get away.

    ¡°No. Stay. Seriously come on¡±, Kara shouts after her. She doesn¡¯t turn.

    ¡°Happy?!¡±, he says.

    I don¡¯t reply.

    ¡°Do you want to be miserable and unloved or what the fuck is up with that!?¡±

    ¡°Do what you must, but don¡¯t drag me into this.¡±

    ¡°We all need people. Friends. Even you!¡±

    ¡°Not everyone is as desperate as you.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re in this together. All of us. If we stick together and help each other maybe we can fight back.¡±

    ¡°If you want to find out how many of your friends must die before you snap, be my guest. But my mother did not sacrifice herself for me to be tortured to death in some cell¡±

    ¡°Oh, but she did die for you to be gutted for their pleasure?!¡±

    I hit him so hard that his flung against the wall. The others jump up in shock or terror. Enya tries to run over. Kara opens his mouth to say something

    ¡°Don¡¯t. You¡¯ve said enough¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±, he stammers.

    My expression shuts him up.

    -

    Niilan holds out another week until he cracks and calls for me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell Daira¡±, is the first thing he says as I enter.

    ¡°As you wish¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just, I had to see you¡±

    I put my finger on his lips: ¡°I missed you too¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s so hard you know. I love them but they seem so distant.¡±

    ¡°Daira loves you as well. Just give them some time.¡±

    ¡°I will. I just need some time to get used to all the changes. Daira returning, the deal with the senate ¨C I am to oversee silver regulation.¡±

    ¡°That is wonderful. Both of it¡±

    ¡°It is¡±

    ¡°But?¡±

    ¡°I will miss you. I told myself I wouldn¡¯t, I have plenty of others to keep me company. But it¡¯s just not the same¡±

    My throat clenches up so tight I can barely breath.

    ¡°And I still haven¡¯t found your replacement. This entire hr? fuss is so idiotic. We have torn down the gods and made them our playthings and yet the masses want to twirl around celebrating the sun setting a bit later.¡±

    It¡¯s all I can do to not pass out. My head feels too tight, the dim lights are blinding, his touch is setting my body aflame.

    ¡°I really hoped it could be the wildling. But after last time I¡¯m not so sure. Maybe I should just bet on that Enya. Much less flashy but at least he is consistent.¡±

    I manage to draw some air. It¡¯s the desperate, sucking sound of someone asphyxiating.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡±, I gasp for more air, ¡°just the thought of us having so little time left¡±, I lie.

    He presses me into him. Suffocating.

    ¡°It is all going be alright. You know I never truly appreciated what a wonderful find I had in you. That other wildling is such a feral thing. I can¡¯t dare to put him out there again if he will pull the same thing like last time. My reputation might never recover. And nobody will buy him after this¡±

    I don¡¯t show the terror that has taken ahold of me. Just close my eyes and let reality slip thru my fingers.

    -

    When I get down the place is in uproar. Someone is crying, more are cursing, the loudest curses are Kara¡¯s. Most have gathered behind Enya in fear of what the boy might do. About a third of the fighters have bandages on their marks, blood seeping thru them. There¡¯s no bandage on the boys back: Just the freshly mutilated cut up mark and raw skin where silver had been peeled off.

    I don¡¯t to announce myself, as soon I opened the door all eyes were on me.

    ¡°Tell me you didn¡¯t know they would do that?¡±, the boy says.

    ¡°I suspected¡±.

    ¡°Why did no one tell me?!¡±

    ¡°Would it have mattered?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare pull that bullshit on me again.¡±

    I shrug and dodge the fist that comes flying towards me.

    I turn, dig my knee into his stomach.

    He keels over, form already starting to warp.

    Before he can finish the side of my hand hits his jaw. He drops immediately, body going limp.

    The room has gone dead silent.

    ¡°If this gets out, you¡¯re dead¡±. I pick up the boy: ¡°I need clean bandages, water and wine.¡±

    We¡¯re back in the torture room, the boy and I. Cold walls with even colder floors my company as I wait for him to wake up. The door swings open. Against the backlighting Enya seems almost intimidating. There¡¯s anger in his movements as he puts down the demander supplies: ¡°You¡¯re not their master¡±

    ¡°No I¡¯m not¡±

    ¡°I had to fight with the servants to get the wine.¡±

    ¡°Thank you¡±

    He nods towards the boy: ¡°I didn¡¯t want it to turn out this way.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine¡±

    ¡°And if you¡¯re wrong? Can you do what¡¯s necessary?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But you could still take him. For now.

    ¡°Will you kill me if I do¡±

    ¡°No¡±

    4 weeks left.

    Kara stirs. With one last look towards him Enya exists the room.

    The boy comes to in a panic: shooting up body morphing before the pain makes him stop.

    ¡°Turn¡±, I say.

    He looks at me.

    ¡°I have to clean your wounds.¡±

    He stifles a bitter laugh.

    I pour the water and wine mixture over his back, start carefully removing blood and dirt. He flinches.

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t tell me what they where do doing.¡±, he finally says.

    ¡°The marks?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡±

    ¡°Was someone else there. Except for Niilan and the carver?¡±

    ¡°Niilan wasn¡¯t there. Just Daira¡±

    ¡°Then they transferred ownership¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You belong to Daira now. Everybody that was there does¡±

    ¡°Why would they do that?¡±

    ¡°Tradition. Ensuring succession. Make sure we don¡¯t get stupid ideas when Niilan dies¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know they could do that¡±

    ¡°Now you do. How is your training progressing¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    I shrug.

    ¡°Good I guess¡±

    ¡°Ready for the next lesson?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m in much of a condition to fight¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t have to. What was your last fights problem?¡±

    ¡°Niilan got pissed¡±

    I don¡¯t reply.

    ¡°Fine. They wanted me to kill someone with even more gore.¡±

    ¡°Yes. You will have to learn how to play the crowd.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not an option¡±

    ¡°Njra I¡¯m serious. I can¡¯t do this. I won¡¯t. I¡¯m not gonna make other people¡¯s death, maybe my own, a spectacle.¡±

    ¡°It already is¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to be their pet monster!¡±

    ¡°Then you will die¡±

    He stares at me.

    ¡°How many times did we have this conversation? I am sorry this burden has been put upon you. You do not deserve it. Noone does. But you must make a choice and accept the consequences.¡±

    ¡°There has to be another way!¡±

    No.

    ¡°I am tired¡±, I¡¯m surprised myself as the words leave my lips, ¡°I don¡¯t have the energy to fight over this again. Do what you must. But when you snap, make it big enough so Niilan is forced put me down as well and not just hurt me some more¡±.

    -

    It¡¯s been a week since the boy insisted on childish defiance against a system that only recognizes it as incompetence. He came to me the day after, joking the way he always does, looking for the reaction that Aary or Enya would have given him, that was never mine. Perhaps it is pettiness that made me reply like I always do, in nods, shrugs and one-word responses. So he left, found the connection he needs with others. Astra first. Yesterday I had seen them with another boy. Drawing in the lonely like moths to the flame.

    The tournament is continuing to approach as what seemed like a faraway event slips nearer and nearer to reality. I begin praying to my mother.

    I¡¯m glad I¡¯m alone for this. Solitude is comfortable. And, for the last bits of existence I have left, I embrace it.

 Chapter 19

    Today begins a month of celebration: From near and far humans have gathered to attend parades, feasts, see wonders and abundance. And they came to see us die.

    The roads are filled with music. We pass market stall after market stall bending under the weight of their exotic goods. None of the onlookers could buy them: but that¡¯s not the point. They¡¯re here to demonstrate what the Pentarchy¡¯s citizens have access too, not what they can afford.

    The carriage moves. The arena in the distance grows bigger with every turn of the wheel. Kara is taping his finder in the back. Niilan ignores the sound. So do I. He has brought the body along in hopes he will improve by watching me. I¡¯m too tired to tell him it will do the opposite.

    Overwhelming noise is replaced by silence as I¡¯m crammed into a waiting room deep in the foundation of the tower. I wait and pray. The gate opens. My first fight in the tournament has begun.

    On the other side of the arena stands a child. Cannon fodder. She darts to the weapons trying to grab a sword. It slips out of her hand and falls on the ground instead. She¡¯s shaking. I charge towards her; she leaps to the side. With the path to the weapon stand now clear, I swipe a dagger. The girl clenches her empty hands. Eyes locked on me she bends down to grab a fist full of sand. I don¡¯t let her: dashing, my dagger slices the girls¡¯ arm before she can dodge. She swings a punch. I shrink. The fist passes beneath me. My dagger clatters the ground, immediately the girl makes a run for it. Her hands clutch around it a second before I land on them, hooves shattering finger, wrist and underarm. She screams and falls back; wants to prop herself up but collapses instead. The crowd is howling in delight. She lies on the ground, stomach, throat and face exposed. Too brief.

    I draw back, give the girl time to rise. Instead, she turns and vomits onto the blood-filled sand. This, the people don¡¯t like.

    The girl stares at me: She¡¯s whispering something. I can¡¯t make out the words. I lift her up, slam her against the ground. Her eyes widen as the air is pressed out of her lungs. Face to face, I can suddenly see everything: the twitching of her lips, the lines fear and sleep deprivation have edched into her face, even the starshaped birthmark under her eye. She tries to transform. I don¡¯t let her. Digging my heel into her convulsing chest I hold a transformed claw next to her throat. She stops. I¡¯m sure Niilan would want more. But I¡¯ve given him enough, we¡¯ve given them enough. In one last attempt she tries to kick me.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    I¡¯m faster.

    The flailing stops. The convulsions stop. Slowly blood mixes with the vomit. I pick up the girl¡¯s body, lie her down on a clean spot and close her eye with red lines.

    The rest passes in a blur, celebrations, crows cheering, Niilan¡¯s grip on my neck as we pass thru the streets. The anger is showing in his every move. May he choke on it. Kara is staring daggers at me.

    The boy can¡¯t even wait until we¡¯re in the fighters¡¯ quarters. As soon as the door to the servant¡¯s corridor shuts behind us, he spins around: ¡°That could have been Aary!¡±

    ¡°She wasn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Would it have made any difference?!¡±

    ¡°No¡±, I try to push past him. He blocks the way.

    ¡°You butchered her!¡±

    ¡°What would you have done?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Not this!¡±

    ¡°If you want me dead, you will have your wish soon enough. Now step aside or I will make sure Niilan won¡¯t have to choose my successor¡±

    He steps aside wordlessly. His eyes are full of hate. And grieve.

    The tournament continues. Fight after fight the numbers are whittled down. Aary¡¯s replacement is dead by the third round. Sjilin didn¡¯t make it past the first. I return with more wounds each time. Each time I do the expressions of the others grow a bit more gleeful. A week in I wake up to somebody eating my ration. They don¡¯t try it a second time.

    My dreams, barely tolerable before, now are filled with my mother in various stages of mutilation: Slit throat, broken limbs, snapped neck, bloodied beyond recognition. The only part of her that is never damaged are her eyes. They stare at me. Unmoving. Hollow. Why did I die for you? Why are you throwing my gift away? She whispers. Again, and again and again and again. Circling accusations in pooling blood.

    And thru the cracks of amber and grey eyes slip other memories, older memories, ones I had buried so deep I was able to convince myself they did not scar me.

 Chapter 20

    The lights are blinging. The screams are deafening. Yet I can hear my own blood pumping: It¡¯s been a long time since standing in the arena has made me afraid.

    For the semi-finals it feels like every human has flocked to the arena. They haven¡¯t of course, all over the city the hr? celebration are swelling towards its culmination. Everywhere people are drinking, laughing, jostling. Here the usually already packed rows are flooded by spectators. They have assigned colors to my opponent and I. Now they¡¯re pressing at the silver bars, colored ribbons tied to their wrists, screaming our names.

    Our eyes are locked onto each other, both hoping our senses adjust faster to the overwhelming stimuli. But I have one advantage he does not: I can alter my pupils. I make a run for the weapon stand. And not a second to soon I realize. He¡¯s fast. Faster than a body that size has any right to be. I grab two daggers and use the momentum to knock over the stand. Metal clangs against each other or the floor. I spin to see just how little air separates us now. His face is cold, neither fear nor overconfidence just concentration.

    This is a fight between equals: We both know it.

    He makes a run for a spear but must jump to the left to dodge my knife. He turns to get up, then I¡¯m on top of him, dragging him into the air, away from the weapons. The crowd cheers.

    His hand shoots up and grabs my talons. Not high enough. I bend down, shifting beak into fangs and sink them into his flesh. He jowls. But instead of letting to he pulls himself up, reaches for my now lowered wings and pulls. Pain and dread flash thru me. He¡¯s ripping my arm out!

    Then, in an instance the pressure is gone as the man¡¯s hand is holding thin air. My instincts have reacted before I could even comprehend. You¡¯re welcome.

    He begins to fall. Cheers erupt. I don¡¯t give him the time to land, dodging flailing limbs I latch onto his face and transform. His hands shoot out and try to grab mine. I shrink. Good enough.

    My extra weight has shifted his center of mass, altering his position in the air: now he¡¯s plummeting face first towards the ground. All he can do is curl up and take the impact on his shoulder instead. There¡¯s an audible crack. He rolls of his shoulder, face contorted he gets to his feet, scrambling away just enough for my transformed weight not to hit him as I land.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    His arm is hanging limb. With one swift motion he grabs it and pops it back into its socket. Then I¡¯m upon him. Before I can react, he slams his uninjured shoulder into me. I jump back and barely avoid the following punch.

    Both of us are painting. I can taste iron on my tongue. He is holding his shoulder, eyes narrowed in pain. I¡¯m doing the same.

    We circle each other, neither daring to look away. I wish there was hate in our eyes.

    He attacks first: Changing into a giant bear, mouth agape, sprinting towards me. I fall to the side. Too slow. The ends of his claws catch my side, ripping the fabric and skin. Red drops fall and sicker into the sand. I must force myself to look away. When has the sight of my own blood in the sand become unfamiliar? It burns sharper than I remember.

    I blink and he¡¯s in front of me. Attack after attack he drives me back, away from the toppled over stand where the daggers lie. I try to circle around, get to them, but he doesn¡¯t give me the space. Cursing I fly into the air, ignoring my aching shoulder. He doesn¡¯t follow, camping over the weapons instead. Shit.

    People are yelling my name. My number. His. It¡¯s deafening up here, surrounded by all sides. I shrink into a mosquito, smaller and smaller, until you can¡¯t make out my form the ground or the rows. I fly down, buzzing drowned out by the noise. My opponent is looking around in a panic. I land next to a dagger. Breath in. Breath out. If he spots me, I¡¯m dead. Wait for him to turn away. Now. My body flares back to human. I grab the dagger even before the transformation is done and impale the metal in his throat. He coughs. Blood gushes out of his mouth and neck, splatters over my hand. Still warm with life. He slams his head back, into mine. Sand and hair imprints into my wounds as skin bursts open. I stager back. He does as well, falling on top of me. The weight pins me down as I desperately try to squeeze out from under him. He grabs hilt of the dagger and pulls. Even with the noise, you can hear gurgling as he begins choking on his own blood.

    Enhanced arms straining I push him off me just before he can stab me. I roll to the side, try to get away as far as I can. He reaches for me. The other hand is clutching his throat. He¡¯s drooling blood, eyes red and unfocused.

    He topples over. The crowed erupts as he begins to spasm.

    It takes a full minute for him to stop flailing. When death finally settles in to make him his, both of us are grateful.

    White ribbons, thrown by the crowed, land on him like corrupted snow. The fabric soaks up the red. I mark him as ours.

 Chapter 21

    ¡°Do I look presentable?¡±, Daira asks.

    They sit next to me in the carriage, decked out in fineries. The servants tried to make me presentable as well, but only partially succeeded. The wounds and bandages still show, even thru the least revealing clothes they could procure.

    ¡°You look wonderful, master¡±, I say.

    ¡°I am sorry for dragging you with me¡±

    ¡°Please do not apologize. I am glad to be of service¡± Liar.

    ¡°Hopefully I remember all the etiquette.¡±

    ¡°You worry too much. The people will love you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s ridiculous. I¡¯m more nervous about a ball than I was exploring crumbling ancient cities¡±

    ¡°Ancient cities? I was under the impression we live in the oldest there is¡±

    ¡°Oldest human city yes. But we are not the first to build them¡±

    ¡°You were not? Then who was?¡±

    ¡°Your people¡±

    I look down, for once dumbstruck. Mom was right. All I can say is: ¡°Oh¡±

    ¡°They are beautiful, mystical places: Doors that end in drops, hallways no larger than my fist. There was one carved within a mountain with waterfalls and fish stairs throughout the entire cities: It took my days to traverse.¡±

    ¡°It must have been a sight to behold¡±

    They smile: ¡°Yes. Yes, it was¡±

    The carriage jolts to a halt. The doors are opened to reveal a scenery I know even the council can¡¯t afford. As soon as we enter Daira is swarmed by people. More are gawking from afar. I¡¯m glad their presence keeps the crowed around me small. More guests are announced as we¡¯re dragged further in.

    <u> </u>

    Tinted glass makes the last beams of sunlight bathe the rooms in a spectacle of color. Gold is dazzling from every corner as banners with embroidered suns hang from the ceiling. People stand in cycles, exchanging lies and pantomiming empathy. I¡¯m next to Daira, arms linked, drifting from group to group. My mind escapes to somewhere else as I let the routine of a dozen other balls guide us.

    The night has already set as a woman in her early seventies walks up to our group. She moves the way a snake does, calm and precise. Fuck. Her bodyguard is staring me down. People turn to bow, falling over themselves to compliment her. With one gesture she waves them quiet.

    ¡°You must be Niilan¡¯s heir. Daira if I am not mistaken?¡±, she asks.

    ¡°You are not¡±, they bow, ¡°whom do I have the pleasure of meeting? You must excuse me; this is my first attendance in quite some time¡±

    ¡°I am aware. I would be surprised if there are many who are not. I am Maryln, daughter of Ewald.¡±

    ¡°Your presence honors me. I have heard much about you from my father¡±

    ¡°I am sure you have. I have been told he was recently entrusted with overseeing silver regulation¡±

    ¡°So the good news have spread¡±

    ¡°I do wish him the best of luck. Especially after what befell the last overseer.¡±

    ¡°I will tell him. He ¡­¡±

    A girl, no older than eleven, rushes between the two: ¡°Grandmother, you found her!¡±

    ¡°Do not be rude¡±, Maryln says.

    The girl turns to look at Daira for the first time, curtsy¡¯s and says: ¡°Apologizes. I¡¯m Ima. Pleased to make your acquaintance.¡±

    ¡°Hello Ima. What brings you here?¡±

    ¡°No need to be shy¡±, her grandmother says.

    ¡°Can I talk to your shifter?¡±, the girl asks Daira.

    ¡°Of course¡±

    Maryln pets Ima on the head; ¡°Go on then. Let the adults talk¡±

    Grinning from ear to ear, the girl grabs my hand and drags me away. Silently their bodyguard follows. Daira watches the scene dumbfounded.

    ¡°You look much less imposing close up¡±, the girl says.

    ¡°Sorry to disappoint.¡±

    ¡°That''s fine. It''s better this way. I asked grandmother if I could have you. But he¡±, she points to the bodyguard, ¡°said a wildling is too dangerous. But you look very tame¡±

    ¡°I would never hurt a master¡±

    ¡°I know! I told him you only hurt fighters¡±.

    She touches the bandage on my shoulder.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    I suppress a flinch.

    ¡°That¡¯s from the latest fight, right? I watched from the first row!¡±

    ¡°I am honored¡±

    ¡°The part where you grabbed that guy¡¯s face was very cool. Show me it to me!¡±

    ¡°You would have to ask my master for permission¡±

    ¡°But¡­Grandmother does not like to be interrupted.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps it is better to postpone the demonstration¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair! What if you die before then?¡±

    2 days left.

    The bodyguard puts a hand on the girl¡¯s shoulder: ¡°Young master: That is no way to speak to a to somebody.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s true!¡±

    ¡°And cruel. Young ladies should only say kind things¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair!¡±, the girl exclaims. She turns on her heel and storms off.

    ¡°That child is a handful¡±, the bodyguard says.

    ¡°You should not speak to a master this way¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡±

    ¡°It will only cause you pain¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. But someone must teach her if her family will not¡±

    I shrug.

    ¡°The girl you killed on the first day of the tournament was my sister you know.¡±

    I don¡¯t say anything. There¡¯s nothing I could say.

    ¡°I don¡¯t hate you for it.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t you decision, was it?¡±

    ¡°I guess not¡±

    ¡°Does not mean I like you. But for Ima¡¯s sake I hope you make it¡±

    ¡°The girl will not get me either way.¡±

    ¡°She won¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°Niilan does not share¡±

    ¡°You are allowed to call your master by his name?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    He grins: ¡°Sounds like both of us are walking on thin ice then¡±

    I give him the semblance of a smile.

    He wants to say something but is cut short by screeching. We turn to see Ima bickering with another child.

    He starts walking towards the two: ¡°Duty is calling. Good talk and best of luck¡±.

    I¡¯m alone for but a second before a mass of touching limbs swallows me up: ¡°That is her!¡± ¡°Crazy she¡¯s here. Her master usually keeps her so exclusive.¡± ¡°Why now?¡± ¡°Prestige for the heir¡± ¡°Noone cares about your politics¡±

    With a suddenness I wasn¡¯t prepared for, isolation washes over me.

    Someone grabs my face: ¡°You better win you hear me. I have a lot of money at stake¡± I don¡¯t look up. ¡°She¡¯s 448?¡± ¡°No that is the other one.¡± ¡°Oh, so she¡¯s the one who will lose?¡±

    I¡¯m drowning.

    ¡°Well, they have not fought yet.¡± ¡°You know what I meant¡±

    I don¡¯t sense her approach. One moment the world seems miles away, the next fingernails dig into my shoulder. Theres an intent, a bloodthirst, behind the grip that catapults me into the arena.

    Kill. My body spins around, claws transformed and outstretched before my mind registers touch. The crowed gasps.

    There¡¯s no blood on the floor. There¡¯s no blood on my hands.

    I look up.

    ¡°Not that I am not exited. But we really should wait until we are in the arena¡±, the woman holding my hand says. She looks at me like child caught stealing.

    I rip my arm free: ¡°Aisha¡±

    ¡°In the flesh. What a nice surprise to see you here.¡±

    I stare at her. She returns my gaze.

    Its only for a moment but the dark specks of her iris move. Only then I register the other micro transformations on her, drifting moles, twitching muscles, shrinking and expanding for but a second. And, as the memories of a language I haven¡¯t seen since the death of my mother flow back into me, I understand: ¡°Stope glaring so much. It doesn¡¯t suit you¡±.

    ¡°How?¡±, I answer, my own transformation sluggish in comparison.

    ¡°Oh! Don¡¯t tell me you understood that?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Answer¡±

    ¡°Use that pretty head of yours: You¡¯re not the only one who had a life before all of this¡±

    The crowd is watching our apparent staring contest with interest. I wish them all to be gone.

    ¡°Hello?¡±

    I don¡¯t reply.

    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you a chatty one? I was led two believe, you¡¯re good company¡±

    ¡°If I was, why waste it on you?¡±

    ¡°Why not? Life¡¯s short. Especially yours.¡±

    2 days left.

    ¡°What? No snappy comeback?¡±, she grabs my shoulder again.

    This time I freeze.

    ¡°You¡¯re terrified. I can see it in your eyes. It¡¯s pathetic!¡±

    Mom.

    ¡°Answer! You¡¯re supposed to be one of the best fighters in this tournament, not some ragdoll.¡±

    Doll? No. ¡°No¡± Please¡­ I don¡¯t want to be a doll. Being a doll hurts.

    ¡°No?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±

    ¡°Then stop acting like one¡±.

    Fuck you.

    ¡°You really are enjoying this, aren¡¯t you?¡±, I say out loud.

    ¡°Yes I am, no thanks to you.¡±, she says. And as if to prove a point she waves. A hundred hands wave back.

    In our language she adds: ¡°Before I kill you, I want you to listen to the people screaming your name, who worship the ground you tread on, realize you were loved by the thousands and know they¡¯re mine now.¡±

    ¡°You can have them. That¡¯s not love¡±

    ¡°How would you know?¡±

    In human she adds: ¡°I will see you in the arena. Let¡¯s hope you become a bit more interesting by then¡±

    Then Aisha¡¯s gone, melted into the mass of smiles, waves, hugs and laugher.

    I look around in a haze. Daira is still in a conversation with Maryln: They look like they need rescuing. Let them rot. I turn to wait in a corner.

 Chapter 22

    Darkness surrounds me, stone walls pressing in from all sides. The only thing disrupting the silence is my breathing. Like the cave. I don¡¯t want to close my eyes. A little girl used to wait that cave, watching the light cast its stark shadows. I balance the tip of a training knife on my finger.

    For my last day I wanted to be outside: To feel the wind, to see the stars, to make it ours not theirs. But when I looked up all I saw is mother. The sky is dangerous she had said. And so, I fled.

    Heavy footsteps approach. The door of the training chambre is pushed open. With one flick of my wrist, I impale the knife into its wood.

    ¡°I assume that means you wanna be left alone¡±, Enya says.

    ¡°Yes¡±

    ¡°Guess that¡¯s not surprising. I¡¯ll be gone soon, I promise.¡±

    I don¡¯t respond.

    ¡°There¡¯s something I wanna tell you. In case this is the last time we see each other.¡±

    ¡°Getting sentimental?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Can I sit?¡±

    I shrug.

    He hunkers down. The floor is cold.

    ¡°I admire you¡±, he says.

    I turn.

    ¡°I grew up hearing stories of wildlings. A lot of em. Each one was different, but they all ended the same: The wildling burned fast and bright, first everything around them and in the end themselves.

    I got down here, met Mykiel and knew I¡¯d see another version of the same story. We all knew, even the master: So half a year later he bought you. Do you remember the first thing you did?¡±

    ¡°No¡±

    ¡°Sit down in a corner and draw your knees up to the chin. But what stuck with me the most was your expression; it was totally blank. No anger, no curiosity, not even fear. They told Mykiel you¡¯d be his responsibility, and he flipped. Like he did so often. We were terrified each time, but you¡¯d just make yourself small, take the punches and mechanically continue doing what he¡¯d told you to. Honestly, I though the master had been scammed.¡±

    ¡°Uplifting memories.¡±

    ¡°Guess not.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°So why tell them?¡±

    ¡°Because Aary was the same. But she didn¡¯t make it past the first fight. There was a difference between you and her. Even then.¡±

    ¡°Yes. I am a wildling¡±

    ¡°Yeah. And that doesn¡¯t mean what you think it does.¡±

    I raise an eyebrow.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got the same rage bubbling in you as Mykel had. As Kara has.¡±

    ¡°Good to know¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not stupid. I know you¡¯re deliberately suppressing it. I heard you teach Kara. Well tried to.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°How is the body?¡±

    ¡°Acting tough.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    The draft from the open door makes the candle flames burn bright. Wax is running down the side and dripping into puddles on the floor. It looks like they¡¯re bleeding. At this pace the servants will have to replace them tomorrow.

    Theres a long silence before Enya says: ¡°Look. I know Mykel killed himself with that rage. But¡­ maybe burning fast and bright is the only option left¡±

    ¡°Are you done being helpful?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not helpful. Not if you don¡¯t let me.¡±

    I don¡¯t reply.

    ¡°You listened when I told you about the mines. I didn¡¯t think it would help, but it. I¡¯m offering you the same. And, if you¡¯re right, spilling your guts doesn¡¯t matter after tomorrow anyways.¡±

    I look down. More wax splatters on the floor.

    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right¡±, I say after a long pause, ¡°There was rage. I remember it burning me. But¡­ now I just feel hollow. I ran into Aisha at the gala. Well, she ran into me. And I froze.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a first¡±

    ¡°No. It is not. Aisha called me a ragdoll and she is right: I might as well be a pile of muscle memories for the masters to have their occasional fun with.¡±

    There¡¯s a look of genuine unease on his face: ¡°The Njra I know isn¡¯t¡±

    ¡°Of course not. Down here I am the most powerful¡±

    ¡°How humble¡±

    ¡°Am I wrong?¡±

    ¡°No¡±

    ¡°I¡­You once told me you¡¯ll fight to survive. For every last second of it¡±

    ¡°I cannot win. Denial is not going to change it¡±

    ¡°Maybe you can¡¯t. Maybe you can. But at least try. You owe your mother that much¡±

    ¡°You are a manipulative asshole¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s for the greater good¡±

    ¡°Interesting definition of greater good¡±

    ¡°Everyone deserves being helped.¡± Do they?

    I shrug.

    The training chambre is swallowed up by silence. Enya gets up.

    ¡°Enya?¡± I say.

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Thank you¡±

 Chapter 23

    This night, I don¡¯t dream. It¡¯s an odd experience. When I wake up, there¡¯s an electric energy pulsing thru me: The world feels sharp in a way it hasn¡¯t for months. I get up, eat, transform, dress and braid, my movements deliberate and clean.

    ¡°You move too much. You¡¯ll run out of energy before we arrive¡±, the mother of a little girl had said.

    I assume the others are staring. It would be hard not to: the outcome of today will impact their lives as well. But if they are, I don¡¯t register it. Today the world consists of two people.

    It¡¯s early noon before I see Aisha. She¡¯s dressed in a waste of fabric and fineries, same as me. Humans have gathered around us, even backstage. She¡¯s shaking hands and waving whilst smiling from ear to ear. I¡¯m not. Dancing will do you no good. Niilan is glaring at me. His hand is clasping mine, rings digging into skin and hitting nerves.

    One day, in a cave that could have been a thousand others, a little girl had begun to transform. ¡°Make it stop¡±, she had begged as her body split itself apart. Her mother could not, so she wiped away the girls¡¯ tears. The tears kept coming, so the mother kept wiping them away. ¡°This is your bodies doing. Focus on that pain¡±, she had said, ¡°It will keep you mind clear.¡±

    Aisha and I are ushered up a podium. Niilan is forced let go of my hand. Beneath us, children are laughing and chasing each other. Masters dressed in their best, shifters buzzing around them, sit on prepared seats or watch from open windows. Further back, seats change to benches before giving way to the poor, standing in tightly packed crowds. Above the stage, doves hover a gilded sun. A gong rings out. The crowd goes silents. We kneel. A council member steps towards us: She has the kind of features, who age only enhances. Decked out in jewelry, golden fabric blowing in the wind, she must strike a cerebral image for her gathered people. From here, we see the origin of the carefully staged wind.

    She preaches of victory, of sacrifice, of the greatness this city has gifted humanity. I don¡¯t pretend to listen.

    ¡°Rise¡±, she commands. We obey. Cheers erupt. People are waving color coded handkerchiefs, red for Aisha, white for me. There are more white ones then I expected. Still, looking out into the crowed, it¡¯s like falling into a sea of blood.

    ¡°All mine now¡±, Aisha whispers are we are dragged off.

    -

    All along the massive, silver coated doors that open into the arena, are scratch marks. I can see them even here, though most are on the outside.

    The first time a little girl had seen these doors, she had been terrified of what they will reveal. Her little finger had clawed at them, tried to find enough grip to stop them from opening. Now they open just form me. Focus.

    I run forward before I can register the blinding light, the noise, the smell of dust and sand. Adjusting my senses whilst running, I head for where I know the weapon stands will be. My eyes snap into focus the moment I arrive. Dagger. Left. My hand shoots out, fingers closing around the shaft. Pain shoots thru me as a kick pushed my kneecap far beyond what a joint can take. What? My body reacts before I know what¡¯s happening. My leg shrinks. I start to fall. The momentum of Aisha¡¯s kick, now lacking resistance, carries her forward and she begins to fall as well. I spin around, trying to strike her with the dagger. For a moment it looks like it¡¯ll work, then her form flares into that of a bear. The blade connects with her side. It barely leaves a scratch. We¡¯re still falling.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    She¡¯ll pin you down.

    Mid fall I turn my body, angle my arms. In a split second I turn into a Kestrel. One wing beat, that''s all I have time for. But it¡¯s enough. I shoot out from underneath Aisha. She crashes to the ground.

    My mind is racing. How did she know where I¡¯d be? The daggers! You always go for the daggers. My body is burning from the transformations pain. Focus.

    Aisha looks beneath her feet in confusion. I start to fly away as fast as I can. From the corner of my eye, I can see her grinning. She jumps, transforms into an eagle midair and races after me. Higher and higher we go, looping around each other in sudden turns. Theres the beating of wings behind me. Turn. I dive to the side. Tallos whizz past me. Too close. I draw in my wings and dive down. She follows. We circle each other. I¡¯m barely dodging her blows.

    ¡°Stop running¡±, Aisha screams, ¡°you¡¯re waiting precious time!¡±

    I draw up again, the curve as tight as I can. The moment I do, Aisha does the same. But her wingspan is larger than mine so, for but a moment, I¡¯m above her: I drop. The movement we collide I turn into a wolf, its sudden weight crushing her as I snap towards her neck. She¡¯s faster. In an instance Aisha¡¯s gone and I plummet.

    I force wings to sprout form my shoulders. The transformation finishes, the momentary agony of my bones braking and realigning passes: But the pain stays. I look down and see blood. My blood. On Aisha¡¯s teeth. It stains the fur around her mouth. It opens, wants to tear out another chunk out of me. No. I turn into a mosquito.

    What happened? Why didn¡¯t my body react? The Pain. The Pain masked it. Shit. My tiny from tries to fly away. You¡¯re too slow! Aisha turns into a swallow. Her head snaps towards me. I transform into an eagle. At least I try to. She crashes into me mid transformation. Too fast. Both of us are thrown back. I force the transformation complete, spread my wings and manage to halt just before crashing into the sliver bars. Aisha has done the same.

    My chest is burning. The wind my wings stirs up, hit exposed flesh. Each time I breath I must force the air down. Aisha barely has a scratch on her.

    Mom.

    She flies towards me. I curve below and head towards the middle. To the weapons. I don¡¯t know where she is: It¡¯s too dangerous to turn and look. My muscles ache. With each of their moment, try to stretch bit farther, draw them back a bit faster. You¡¯re almost there.

    There¡¯s a wind current. I don¡¯t have time to react before she crashes into me full force and I¡¯m flung against the nearest wall. In the split-second before the impact, I transform into a bear. Still, my body explodes with pain. As I slide to the floor, a bloody trail mark where my chest collided with stone. I roll to the side. And not a second to soon: Aisha lands where I had crashed. Sand is thrown into the air and lodges into my wounds. Then she¡¯s upon me: Snarling, biting.

    With my movements still sluggish form the impact, all I can do is shield my vitals. Mom. Help me. Aisha¡¯s claws tear thru my skin.

    If you dig a small hole after a heavy rain, you can watch the water seep into it. It¡¯s as if the earth itself is bleeding. A little girl had dug a lot of holes those days, so that both could bare those marks. Crimson seeps into the claw marks, leek from the bite wounds. Mommy stop. It hurts.

    I try to crawl away, but she won¡¯t let me. She never let me go. Theres¡¯s blood trickling down my face. I¡¯m sorry. I curl up. I¡¯ll be quiet. I promise.

 Chapter 24

    A doll lies in the sand, cracked and blood smeared. A woman is playing with its leaking remains.

    ¡°Mom¡±, it cries out.

    ¡°Get up!¡±, a mother of a daughter used to yell. ¡°Get up!¡±, the mother is yelling now, ¡°Get up and fight!¡±

    The mother hadn¡¯t always been yelling. Mostly she had been silent, eyes hollow, mind somewhere no one else could reach. She had forgotten about the daughter then, and the daughter had let her. Very seldom, when the hunt had been good and the dreams kind, the mother had hugged the daughter and told of a world long gone.

    ¡°What do you know of phenixes?¡±, she had asked on one such night.

    ¡°Daddy is one of them now¡±

    ¡°Yes- Have you ever wondered, why only we can transform?¡±

    ¡°¡­no¡±

    ¡°Why must you be so much like me and nothing like him?¡±

    ¡°¡­so..rry¡±

    ¡°Your father used to talk about them, said they¡¯re the reason we can do this¡±, her hand grows claws, ¡°Do you want to know what he told me?¡±

    The girl had nodded. Eyes big.

    When her mother continued, her voice had been hushed. She was repeating sacred words after all, made holy merely by them having left his lips first: ¡°Long before the crust of the world had known water, had known trees or mortal life, birds of fire roamed the sky. Time passed; the world changed, as out of singularity grew diversity. And so too, the birds of fire leaned to change, losing one unending life to gain a thousand finite ones.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re all that¡¯s left of them,¡± the mother had cupped the daughter''s face, ¡°So we¡¯re not allowed to die. No matter what.¡±

    The doll is tossed to the ground. Again, and again. Its limbs flail, forced by invisible strings to go thru the motions of defending itself. It doesn¡¯t matter: the shell continues to crack all the same. ¡°FIGHT!¡±, the woman shaking the doll screams, ¡°YOU CAN¡¯T DO THIS TO ME! ITS NOT FAIR!¡± ¡°FIGHT!¡±, the mother is yelling, ¡°I did not die for this!¡±

    My head is pounding. My thoughts are slurring. I cannot open my eyes.

    The woman strikes the doll down, climbs on top of it. Is on top of it. He¡¯s on top of it. They¡¯re on top of it. Peeling arms from where they might shield, pinning legs and freezing its body in place. They claw at its face, from cheek to throat. From up here you can see the skull beneath its shattered mask.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    fight.

    Blinding light tinges the arena in red. It¡¯s a fitting color. Niilan¡¯s command carves into the dolls body, into my soul, pulls the strings taut. The doll is flung at her opponent. More in surprise then fear, Aisha jumps back. Another swipe, another jump.

    enough. you may move yourself.

    The crimson light fades. The strings moving me fade. I open my eyes.

    First, I feel pain. It crashes down on me like an avalanche. The numb sensations of someone else¡¯s doll get replaced with my nerve endings of flesh and blood. I can hardly breath, my throat feels like it¡¯s been crushed, the wound in my chest is pounding as all over cuts, bits and bruises burn. Tears and sweat are pooling in the crevices Aisha¡¯s claws have left on my face, their salt igniting what little receptor not yet set ablaze.

    After physical anguish follows the mental one: Old memories are dragged up from places I believed smothered and gone. I feel all the woman has endured, the girl, the daughter, the doll, as my mind tries and fails to accept their experiences as mine.

    I break.

    Or maybe I heal.

    I think I¡¯m laughing. Perhaps I¡¯m merely suffocating. My body has toppled over. Aisha rams her knee into my chest. ¡°Fight!¡±, she screams. ¡°Grab it! Fight! You owe it to me!¡±, my mother screams.

    ¡°No.¡±

    What did you just say?!

    ¡°Why should I fight? I never wanted this! All I learned from you is how to hate the life YOU cursed me with!¡±

    Don¡¯t you DARE!

    ¡°What are you on about?¡±, Aisha narrows her eyes in annoyance, ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter I guess. I¡¯m done with this farce. I must admit, I expected mo-¡± I grab her face, claws digging into flesh: ¡°Fuck! You!¡± The crowed is screaming. ¡°Fuck all of you!¡± I think I¡¯m screaming. It¡¯s hard to tell over my boiling blood. Aisha skin begins to blacken. I think she¡¯s screaming too. Kill. My claws close. She manages to transform and slip free before I can crush her skull. KILL! the rage demands, smoothering the pleas of a broken body.

    Flames burst from my skin; wings from my back as I chase Aisha into the air. The sand has begun to melt. There¡¯s no remorse as I leave behind the ashes of my life; only hate and desire for retribution.

    The humans behind their flimsy cages are cheering. ¡°A Phoenix¡±, the announcer exclaims, ¡°Honored Citizens; We are witnessing the impossible!¡±

    Aisha and I clash, her claws digging into my chest. Flames erupt from where they break skin. I tear into her. Kill. Sand turns to glass. Her flesh is charring. She screeches, tries to tear free. I pull her back into our embrace. She¡¯s crying. The tears evaporate before they can touch molten ground. She tries to speak but cannot stop screaming long enough to do so. Her agony fuels the flames until her feathers catch fire and set her whole body ablaze. Her eyes are burning. All of them. I dig in further; consume what makes her her so that both of us may cease to exist today.

    She¡¯s dead. Charred remains fall apart in my grasp but do nothing to quell the rage.

    The cheers grow louder, drums crescendo, white fabric strips are thrown in air. I look like snow, for but a moment, before they go up in flame. ¡°Honored citizens, 549! Victor of the 94th Ro Tournaments.¡±, the announcement rings out: ¡°What a spectacle!¡± Chains raddle. The door into the tower opens. ¡°The cities, no the countries, gratitude goes out to the council and Niilan, son of Kieran!¡± Backlit by flickering torchlight the silhouette of a men emerges from the darkness of the waiting chamber. ¡°Enjoy the victory parade outside whilst our newest victor is patched up. And as ever, may Silawells glory shine as today Rho has sho-¡°

    I dive towards Niilan, shrink and pass thru the exit. He stands there, arms outstretched: ¡°You did it! I-¡° Kill. I obey.

    halt!

 Chapter 25

    don¡¯t breathe.

    The world has turned red. Silenced, suffocating, I lunge forward and slip in a pool of my own blood. Kill. I get up, charge again only for the silver shackles around my neck to yank me back. It almost crushes my throat. Doesn¡¯t matter. I can¡¯t breathe either way. Trying to tear my arms free, I hurl myself against the restraints again. You¡¯re dying. SEE IF I CARE!

    halt.

    My body freezes mid motion, falls into the shackles like a statue. Pathetic. SHUT THE FUCK UP!

    ¡°Pathetic¡±, Niilan says.

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°Do you have any idea how much I invested in you?! Not just money but time!¡±

    I¡¯LL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB!

    ¡°And as a show of gratitude you try to kill me. Is that it?!¡±

    I can¡¯t move, can¡¯t even glare. The black dots in my vision flow together like puddles.

    He buries to his head in his hands: ¡°The others will laugh me out of any respectable gathering¡­ To believe I trusted a wildling!¡±

    HA!

    ¡°It¡¯s only a matter of time until they find out. They are already whispering. Behind all the nice invitation and questions about your health. I know it!¡±

    If my body could move, it would spasm, claw as its bruised throat. But it can¡¯t. So, it¡¯s simply dying. I did not die for this! HAHAHAHAHAHA! FUCK YOU!

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    move. you may breathe.

    I topple over, gasping for air mid uncontrollable laughter.

    Niilan glares at me: ¡°You think this is funny?!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not?¡±

    He nods towards to the servant on my left. Something hard hits my face. White hot pain flashes thru my cheek as barely healed wounds reopen. The bandages stain red.

    HAHAAHAHAHAAH! ¡°GO ON, HIT ME YOURSELF! Or do you even lack the BALLS for that?!¡±

    Amber eyes glare. I stare back.

    ¡°Continue as before¡±, he says before standing up. He leaves. The door falls shut.

    Chains are tightened, and I¡¯m pulled back up. A servant I can¡¯t see puts a blade to my back and continues to peel. I¡¯m laughing.

    -

    No daylight reaches here, water is given sporadically, food even more so, sleep is short and dinged in red. It¡¯s impossible to tell how many days have passed. Everything burs together after a while; Even pain; Even time.

    It had rained that day. Most everything else is hazy, but I remember the rain. Mama and Papa had been gone so long, I started eating the moss which grew on the cave entrance. It did not keep the gnawing hunger in check.

    I went to get more and there she stood, so much water dripping from her fur it formed puddles beneath her. Like the moss. I had stormed forward and hugged her, but she did not move. She didn¡¯t for a long time. ¡°Mommy, where¡¯s dad?¡±, I had asked. Only then she had looked down, as if remembering for the first time she had a daughter. Her eyes were burning with rage.

    Pain shoots thru me. I jolt upright in the darkness. Still blindfolded. My toe is burning. Someone is laughing. ¡°WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!¡±, I yell, voice discordant and rough. A smack. The laughing stops. Cold metal is placed on my second nail. ¡°I WLL KILL YOU ALL!¡± A pull as it¡¯s ripped out. I howl and tear at the restraints. ¡°And how will you do that?¡±, a voice asks. Another smack. ¡°Come on. Look at her. You can stop shitting yourself¡± ¡°YOU COWARDS. YOU WOULDN¡¯T EVEN DARE TO LOOK ME IN THE EYES IF I WASN¡¯T SHACKLED¡± ¡°Of course¡±. Fight back! How? LOOK AT ME! Is this what you wanted, MOTHER?! Another pull. The pain leaves me breathless. IT¡¯S FUNNY! I really did listen to you. TO YOU! I should¡¯ve known this is where I¡¯d end up! Don¡¯t. Like mother like daughter!

    They rip out 5 more nails before I pass out.