The nearest obelisk stands in the center of a broad ruined square. Warriors have already crowded in the area, gathering beneath the shrill cry of the siren.
Some approach with anticipation, others with visible dread, but all of them keep their eyes fixed on the shifting names climbing and vanishing across the stone.
The atmosphere feels different than the usual challenge crowds—tenser, heavier. Those that do not see their names yet decide which battle they want to observe, voicing aloud their opinions on each fighter and which ones they see as competition.
Moe squeezes my hand as we push through the gathering mass. Lis glides beside us uninvited. Not a single person dares protest her presence. In fact, most step aside the moment they recognize her.
The obelisk ripples. Then my name appears.
Nykander v’Kyro (403) vs Serrik Vael (417).
A murmur passes through the crowd along with whispers about thisSerrik. They all talk about his abilities and his control over his domain, which happens to be Frost. My jaw tightens.
“He’s stronger than you,” Lis remarks beside me.
I shoot her a look. “Thanks for the encouragement.”
“You should be grateful,” she replies mildly. “A weak draw teaches you nothing.”
I turn back to the obelisk, staring at the unfamiliar name. I haven’t fought a Frost Domain this strong before.
Beside me, Moe shifts closer. “How bad is it?”
“Annoying,” Lis answers before I can, already taking control of the conversation. “Frost wielders specialize in battlefield control. He’ll try to slow your movements, numb your limbs, force you into predictable paths.”
“I know how combat works,” I mutter.
Who even invited her here?
“No,” she says. “You know how brawling works. There is a difference.”
I narrow my eyes at her. She’s not helping. And seeing how everyone around us gazes at her—with a mix of admiration and fear—I don’t think this is the best time to voice my real opinion of her. Or tell her to get lost. Or at least shut up. By the Seven, how I wish she would do both!
Moe coughs into her hand, poorly disguising what is very obviously laughter.
The obelisk pulses once and a beam of red light descends over us.
“Assigned combatants, proceed,” a disembodied voice commands.
The crowd parts immediately, those wishing to stay coming closer while those who are not interested in this fight exit the scope of the beam.
Lis folds her arms. “Try not to embarrass yourself.”
I bare my teeth. “You are remarkably irritating for someone who claims to be helping.”
“And you are remarkably fragile for someone so proud,” she fires back.
“Nyk,” Moe says quickly, stepping between us before I can answer. She places both hands on my chest and rises slightly onto her toes. “Ignore her. Just focus on the fight. I know you can win.”
My gaze drops to her beautiful face. The noise of the square fades a little.
Mine.She’s mine.
She smooths a hand over my shirt then looks up at me with that quiet confidence she always wears when she believes in me more than even I believe in myself.
“Make me proud,” she says softly.
Some of the tension in my shoulders eases. I lean down and press my forehead briefly to hers. “I’ll make it quick.”
