And so, with weary limbs and wounds that wept crimson upon the accursed earth, I turned to claim the silver promised for my survival. Yet, as I strode toward the chamber of the wardens, a voice like the grinding of stone halted my steps.

  “Why do you return, wretch? A criminal such as you must win two battles before tasting freedom,” the guard sneered, his hand resting upon the pommel of his blade.

  A second? A jagged breath rattled from my chest. The very marrow of my bones trembled. I had little strength left. Before I could utter a word, a voice rang out, clear as a bell of judgment.

  “I shall purchase her freedom,” declared the woman from before—the noblewoman who sat poised in the first row. Her voice bore the weight of one accustomed to command. “I am Chara Aethos.”

  So that was her name.

  Murmurs rippled through the throng like a gathering storm, yet beneath them lurked displeasure. I, too, was struck by disbelief. To be bought? What game is she playing? Was this mockery or mercy? It did not matter. My strength has dried up and I am quite undone. My very bones ache with weariness. But-

  “No,” I declared, dragging myself forward until I stood at the heart of the bloodstained sand. I raised my blade and pointed its gleaming tip toward her. “I refuse.”

  Amusement flickered across her lips.

  The crowd’s roar was thunder, a living beast baying for blood. I stood in the heart of the pit, my body a ruin of torn flesh and raw exhaustion. My breath came in ragged gasps, chest rising and falling with the effort of simply remaining upright.

  She strode into the arena, and I knew immediately—this was no mere opponent. She was unlike the last—a woman of formidable build, her muscles honed like steel. The kind of woman who had seen the battlefield, who had killed and survived and killed again. Where I bled, she was whole. Where I faltered, she stood unwavering. She measured me with cool indifference and scoffed. “You should have taken the deal.”

  I did not grant her the dignity of a reply. Words would not save me.

  Her weapon was broader and heavier than mine. I could not employ the ruse I had used before—she had witnessed my tactics. So I steadied my stance and shifted my left foot forward. I waited for her to charge first and so she did.

  The sound of steel slashing through air came before the pain. A scream tore from my throat. A wet, sickening rip of flesh. Fire erupted in my thigh, torn open by her blade. Blood—dark, glistening—spilled over the sand in greedy rivulets. My legs wavered, my knees screamed to give in.

  Not yet. Not yet. I could not fall. I had to push beyond my limit.

  I gritted my teeth, forcing breath into my burning lungs. She saw my struggle and let out a low, mirthless laugh. “Is that all?” Her next strike carried less force than expected, yet the glint in her eye betrayed her intent. She was toying with me.

  My arms, already weak from battle, screamed in protest as I met her blows. And when she sensed my strength faltering, she bared her fangs. The next strike was faster. Harder. Her blade came down like a hammer, and I barely twisted away in time. Sand erupted in its wake, the force of her blow leaving a crater in the ground. The weight of it rattled through my bones, even without contact. My grip on my weapon tightened, fingers slick with my own blood. She came again, blade descending with the force of a landslide. I barely twisted away, the wind of her strike slashing against my cheek. The impact of steel against sand sent a tremor through the ground, a crater yawning where I had just stood.

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  She was stronger. Faster. My limbs were lead, my mind sluggish. The heat of my own blood burned against my skin, each drop stolen by the greedy earth beneath me. I was a fool to think I could match her in raw power.

  Then I would not.

  With what remained of my will, I surged forward, dodging her next blow. And with all my might, I let my knees buckle and collapsed beside her. The world tilted. The earth came up to meet me. The sand kissed my body. A gasp from the crowd.

  She had expected me to dodge. Not to collapse. Her next blow was stalled, her balance shifting. Confusion flickered in her eyes. Her mind was void.

  It was all I needed.

  My blade lashed out, a strike born of desperation and fury. Steel kissed flesh.

  A howl. Blood sprayed hot against my skin as her leg buckled, the wound deep, merciless. She crashed onto her back with a snarl, fingers clawing at her injury. The ground trembled with the force of her fall.

  A scream. Steel clattered against sand. The weight of her fallen sword rang through the pit like a funeral knell. She was at my mercy.

  I dragged myself up, every muscle shrieking in protest. My leg was a ruin. My hands trembled with exhaustion. But I raised my blade and pointed it at her heaving chest. “Do you yield?” My voice was hoarse, raw.

  Pride warred within her. I saw it in her clenched jaw, in the fire behind her eyes. Yet, in the end, reason won where arrogance failed.

  “I do.”

  The world exploded. The eruption from the crowd was deafening. The crowd bellowed, a storm of voices rising to the heavens, drunk on violence and victory. My victory.

  With what meager strength remained, I staggered to the guard. Twenty silver coins fell into my palm. My freedom was won, yet the price had been carved into my very flesh.

  I made my way out of the arena, each step a battle against the agony threatening to drown me. The world tilted, blurred. My leg, ravaged and weak, at last surrendered.

  I crumbled.

  “A battle worthy of song, will you clash with my blade later?” came a deep, mirthful voice.

  I forced my head up, teeth gritted against the pain. The man from before stood over me, his eyes alight with something between admiration and amusement.

  “It was an amusing spectacle,” Chara mused, stepping closer. “I am glad to have witnessed it.”

  She knelt beside me, her presence both imposing and strangely serene. “For the entertainment you have provided me, I shall offer you my aid. Speak, warrior. What do you seek?”

  I exhaled. “Escort me to the inn an hour from here. Buy me food, medicine, and bandages. Here,” I fumbled, pressing three silver coins into her palm. If a night’s rest cost two, then surely this would suffice.

  Laughter erupted. Chara and the man shook with mirth until their eyes glistened with tears.

  “Are you truly a Boshaft?” the man jested.

  I did not answer. I had no strength left to spare for words.

  With little effort, the man hefted me onto his back. “For a fighter of such skill, you weigh no more than a starving child,” he scoffed, though his grip was steady.

  His mockery stirred an unwelcome memory. Fidi. That vile creature. I clenched my jaw. I would not let my mind stray there.

  “This way,” I murmured. “Turn left.”

  A bark of laughter. “That is a dead end, fool!”

  Insufferable bore. I would have walked on my own, but my body had turned traitor, my mind slipping into fog.

  “It is fine,” Chara whispered, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Rest, warrior. We know the way.”

  My thoughts fought against the pull of oblivion, wary of strangers. But my body had already surrendered.

  As darkness claimed me, I fumbled for the last two silver coins and placed them in Chara’s hands. “For the night,” I murmured, before letting sleep drag me under.