Not because I think pain purifies.
Not because I trust fate to finally grow sentimental about me.
I will not lose because I’m out of room for failure. Because there is a line behind me made of broken doors, ringing comms, old choices, and men who think fear is a collection strategy. Because I know exactly what waits if I fall short, and it is not instructive character development.
The image of Mysk’s curtains flashes through my mind and I bare my teeth.
“No matter what it takes,” I say quietly.
The woman with silver brows across the aisle glances over. “What was that?”
I smile at her, all ease. “Just psyching myself up.”
She snorts. “Try not to die in the first round. It’s depressing for the rest of us.”
“I’ll do my best.”
But in my head, the promise has already set.
No matter what it takes.
The shuttle banks. Station lights bloom ahead like a jeweled wound in the dark. Contestants straighten, adrenaline rising in the cabin like heat. Somewhere beyond this transfer is the host planet, the games, the cameras, the absurdity of survival turned into ratings.
Fine.
Let them watch.
Let them cheer.
Let them underestimate me because I arrive carrying a guitar and a smile and a body built for pleasure before warfare.
I’ve survived worse rooms than an arena.
And this time, I’m not walking in with nothing to lose.
CHAPTER 5
TILDA
Fratvoy One looks expensive from orbit.
That is my first thought as the transfer liner begins its descent and the planet swells in the viewport, all gleaming oceans and sculpted continents and cloud bands lit gold by the nearest sun. It doesn’t look wild. It looks curated. Like someone hired a committee to design a world that saysadventurewhile still reassuring wealthy advertisers their shoes won’t get muddy unless scheduled.
Jesse is kneeling on the seat beside me in our cabin, both hands pressed to the glass.
“Big,” he whispers again, awed.
“Yeah,” I say softly.
Big enough to swallow us whole.
TheCelestial Bloomglides lower through the atmosphere with barely a shudder. Engine vibration hums through the deck, smooth as a purr. In the corridor outside, I can hear other contestants moving around, luggage wheels rattling, voices rising and overlapping in excited bursts. Somebody laughs too loudly. Somebody else is already performing bravery for an audience that isn’t in the room.
I adjust Jesse’s shirt collar and smooth his hair back from his forehead. His scales are warm under my fingers.
“You ready for our grand descent into nonsense?”
He points at the window. “Adventure.”
