Telsan couldn’t suppress a grin upon seeing the next round of the games unveiled. This would be easy; he could win a sky race. Looking over at Solis, he caught his gaze and thought he saw understanding there—though he probably couldn’t see Telsan’s smile. No one ever could.

  Solis gave him a small nod, and Telsan couldn’t tell if he was thinking the same things, but . . . regardless, the Ornis boy didn’t think he would let his friend win. He couldn’t even guarantee that Solis would come in second. Honestly, there was only one he thought could challenge him, perhaps.

  “Well, boys? Going to try your hardest?”

  The voice was hers. Telsan and Solis turned as one to see Erika Dolce striding up, bearing the same bruises that Daryn had left he with. She bore them well, refusing to be hampered by them. Telsan looked up with exasperation from his sitting perch. “Hello, Erika. No, we’re planning on putting in very little effort.”

  Her face remained impassive. “You’re getting funnier, birdman. And you, cousin?” She looked to Phoenix, who was sitting apart from the others on Solis’ other side.

  Phoenix looked her way with a sigh. “What do you want, Erika?”

  The tall woman crossed her arms. “Is that any way to greet a family member after making it through the first trial without your Kinship?”

  Phoenix gave a small, obviously uncomfortable shrug. “I mean, we made it.”

  “Shouldn’t you be vacating the premises, Erika?” Solis said innocently.

  She turned her gaze his way. “Indeed. I’m sure they’ll come for me soon. I just wanted to say . . .” She flicked her eyes back to Phoenix. “Good job. Whatever you did. Win this stupid tournament for us, Phoenix.”

  With that, she spread her speckled wings and took flight.

  Telsan turned a raised feathery eyebrow on Phoenix. “She just complimented you.”

  Phoenix stared at the ground. “Yeah, well. She can keep her compliments.”

  Telsan rose to his feet, hearing the call of Magnate Spore. “I think that’s the cue.”

  They congregated with the others at the starting line. Five other winged ones, four elementalists. That made for twelve contestants overall. It was hard to believe that much of their team had even stayed intact. The “starting line” was a space designated on the stone floor of the island some hundred yards in front of where the first ring hung in the sky. The contestants gathered in a mostly-line, glancing nervously at one another. Telsan caught uncertain glances aimed at Phoenix from the elementalists like Chester and Villa. Their wings were out like all the others, fiery and liquid respectively. Telsan could tell that they were wondering how they could possibly beat the monster Phoenix had suddenly become.

  “. . . And to pursue the stars above must pierce the Earth,” Spore was saying, sounding incredibly bored with his own speech. “Let the second round begin . . . now!” That one word was spoken with great force, greatly amplified and accompanied by falling flags to either side. Telsan leaped into the air with a forward bound, wings driving downward and arcing back up to grab more and more air. The initial wingbeats were the most taxing of all of one’s flight, and the most crucial in a race like this. His acceleration was the greatest of all the Ornis and Tapiq, though a few of the elementalists had matched him. They had less weight and did not have to use muscle as their propulsion, after all. He angled to the left and took a wide swoop as his trajectory upwards, wings still straining for more altitude. Chester was just above him, and Phoenix beyond him, wings ablaze like the world’s last sunrise, but Solis had yet to meet the altitude of the elementalists. Telsan was going for speed as much as altitude, however.

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  Soon, he angled straight toward the first ring, flying mostly laterally and only rising as he gained the advantageous currents of wind that helped in such a task. Phoenix, surprisingly, was the first through, and he the second. She truly has gotten faster. It made sense, given that her fire powers seemed more explosive than ever, her flames a raging inferno. Now was not the time to ponder the nature of this upgrade. He angled leftward, toward the Hiding of the Sun, where the next ring was placed just above this one.

  Looking back, he saw Solis just a few contestants behind, face displaying furious concentration. The boy was determined. He had to make his own victory, so Telsan was not about to help him—if such a thing were even possible. Telsan believed in his friend.

  Telsan took the next ring just behind Phoenix, immediately angling upward for the next one, which would require some wingbeats for altitude. Phoenix kept her eyes focused ahead, wings streaming fire as they mock-flapped, black leather skirts flapping behind her. A few rings later, they were neck-and-neck, passing through at the same time. Phoenix looked his way only to give him a brief, competitive smile. Almost an amazed one, and rightly so.

  Solis slowly caught up to them, taking corners at reckless speed and deftly switching between diving and rising smoothly as needed. Tissan had fallen behind near to last place, but a Tapiq man by the name of Tam had caught nearly up to them, surpassing Villa the Dewborn, whose watery wings had proven to be shockingly swift at top speed.

  Finally, there was only one more ring to go. Telsan had passed Phoenix twice now, but she was ahead by a waist’s length. He cut deftly over the glowing ring’s lower lip, tucking in both wings for a twirling plummet. Guiding his fall was tricky, but he could feel the terrible speed he picked up, diving like a falcon. Faster and faster . . .

  There.

  He pulled out of the dive shortly before reaching the last ring, which angled halfway between vertical and perpendicular with the ground. He managed to catch his fall on his speckled wings, then flapped to slow himself, and eventually landed past the finish line, a full three wingspans ahead of Phoenix, who glided to the ground on hot red air. “Telsan, that was amazing,” she breathed, even as Solis glided past. A referee motioned them back, and they complied.

  The next minute was a rush of wings and wind as the rest of the contestants landed. Tam was next, followed by Villa and the other elementalists. Tissan was second to last, to Telsan’s surprise. But then, he’d seen him fly: the boy was no slouch, just no competition for the best in the Tapiq islands.

  Solis jogged over to his two friends and reached out for high-fives. Phoenix’s was less enthusiastic, but she slapped his hand just the same. “Good job, guys!” he said, stealing glances at the jealous lower placers. The Magnates had not said how many would proceed to the next round, so there were many a nervous face.

  “Telsan !” called Melka, floating twenty paces above the ground and staring down with impassive eyes. “You have come in first place, so you shall proceed first into the next round.”

  Now? mouthed Solis to Telsan, who shrugged back and stepped forward.

  With a wave of her slender hand, Melka caused a long section of the stone to carve away, a platform to rising up in its place. It rose to around waist height, rectangular and fitted with a rack of weapons, not dissimilar to the armories hidden in the previous arena. Swords, axes, shields and other armaments adorned the pegs. No two were alike, and in all there were only around a dozen selections.

  “You have first pick from the armory you see. You may take whatever you wish, the only limit being what you can carry on your person.”

  He chose the long, ornately carved spear without hesitation, but also took the lightweight single-hand axe, considering it a good backup. She browsed the items, seeming a bit off-put, and settled on the sword and a long dirk. Next, the female Magnate called Phoenix, and she came forward to choose her weapon. Phoenix stepped forward tentatively, looking at the contestants surrounding her. Their faces displayed shock, envy, outrage and fear.

  “The top eight shall be chosen,” Melka continued after Phoenix withdrew with her prizes. “Thus the rewards weight the odds in the favor of the faster. The more you take, the more value you keep from your enemy, but the slower you become. Solis Lightwing!”

  Solis jolted beside Telsan, muttering, “Wish I could just have Swishy Fishstick back . . .” as he tromped to the weapons array. He came back with a foreign blade of curved design, which Telsan believed to be called a katana. On his offhand, he held the other shield, larger and heavier. That left only half of the weapons: a poleaxe, a long-poled sickle, a greatsword, a morning star, a crude but heavy club, a staff, and a short trident.

  The other five went increasingly grudgingly to the weapon stand, until the last—number eight—was left with nothing.

  Nothing. Against seven fully armed combatants. And it would be a fight between them all, as the Magnates went on to explain. Why real weapons, though? What do they want to see, a bloodbath?