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The Médica looked at me, bewildered. She didn't have any answers either. Seething, I bent down.
"Don't touch—“
I growled in response, snatched the stone, and headed to the control room.
If the stone was glowing, it was because Carmen needed to be healed. Warmth surged through my veins, connecting me to Carmen through our shared blood bond. I had never told her what she truly meant to me, that she wasn't my mentee; she was my heart, my soul, my very reason for living.
If the system failed, I could help heal her. She would not die.
I stepped into the makeshift control room, the ground beneath us little more than a rumble. The screen cast eerie shadows across the faces of those gathered around me. It wobbled every now and again, but we watched in silence as raw footage streamed before us—images of a once-beautiful place engulfed in flame and destruction. My heart clenched as I searched for one face among the chaos: Carmen.
On the screen, I saw Carmen's eyes flutter open, her body slowly beginning to stir. But our relief was short-lived as another explosion rocked the volcano, sending plumes of lava raining down upon them.
"Move!" I yelled, unable to control myself as I watched them on screen.
The Canciller jerked around and narrowed his eyes at me. “Control yourself or get out,” he hissed.
I ignored him while I watched Carmen reach for Santiago's outstretched hand. At that moment, the golden stone blazed with light, and Carmen's body shimmered, transforming her into a living embodiment of her Blood Magic.
Suddenly, a massive lava explosion erupted from the volcano's side, consuming everything in its path. The camera capturing the harrowing footage shook violently before the molten river swallowed it, the feed cutting out with an abrupt finality that left us all gasping for breath.
"Damn it," I muttered, slamming my fist against the table. A flood of emotions threatened to overtake me—anger, fear, and helplessness. But beneath it, all was a fierce determination that wouldn't let me give up on Carmen. Not now, not ever.
As Carmen continued to glow, a beacon of hope amidst the devastation, I put my faith in her resilience—the sheer force of her will. She was more than just a competitor in the Blood Tournament; she was a warrior, a survivor, and the girl who held my heart in her hands. I stopped breathing as I watched the molten lava devour the camera. The screen flickered once, twice, and then surrendered to darkness. A scream clawed at my throat, desperate to escape, but was swallowed by the Canciller's booming voice.
"Maintain order!" he commanded, his eyes darting around the room like a hawk searching for prey. The group around me silenced themselves, their fear was palpable as they struggled against the oppressive atmosphere. The Canciller clenched his fists, a vein pulsing in his temple, his desire to maintain power and control evident in every rigid muscle.
"Damn it all!" the Canciller cursed, his face contorted with anger as he surveyed the erupting volcano and the wyvern emerging from its fiery depths on the remaining screens. His gaze landed on me, and I braced myself for whatever rage-fueled words would follow. "Castillas, this is your fault! You and that damned girl!"
As I fought to keep my composure, my hands balled into fists, knuckles white with strain. Inside, my mind roared with indignation, screaming that it wasn't just me or Carmen—we were all trapped in this hellish nightmare created by the Canciller himself.
"Her name is Renata," I bit out, my voice low and dangerous. "And she was exactly what you asked for. She is brave. They love her."
"Bravery won't save her now," he sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. "Nor will it save any of them. Guardias, get that bastard out of here.” He threw his hand toward me.
One of the advisors raised his head from the blank screen. "Are you going to explain the wyvern flying through the sky?"
The room imploded once more, but I was escorted away.
* * *
Hours passedas we searched the volcanic landscape for any sign of Carmen. The air, thick with ash and sulfur, burned our lungs with each breath. I kept my gaze on the ground, scanning the treacherous terrain for any trace of her.
"Over there!" one of the search party members called out, his voice drowned by the howling wind. We rushed to his side, and there she was—Carmen, lying unconscious, dirty and damp.
I gasped. Her left leg was missing below the knee. My heart twisted in agony at the sight, but I refused to let it break me.
"Get rid of her," the Canciller ordered without a second thought, his cold eyes devoid of compassion. "She's useless now."
"Wait!" I shouted, stepping between him and Carmen. "You can't just kill her. She's still alive!"
"Alive or not, she's a liability," he spat. “There are things you don’t know, Antonio. Several people are unhappy she is alive. A crippled Élite serves no purpose."
"Except to expose you," I countered, my voice laced with venom. “And what people want her dead?” I thought for a second, picturing all of her adoring fans.
And then I thought of the man who had tried to sell her.
“Omar Gálvez. Is that what this is about?” The Comerciante Nocturno was a dead man, and I was positive Carmen would help me stick the knife into his chest.
