The next few matches passed like ripples on still water — present, but distant. I listened. Took in the rhythm of it. But none of it sharpened me.
Not like her fight had.
Not like what was coming.
I stood.
Tovin shifted beside me. "You okay?"
"I'm going to the bathroom."
"I'll go with—"
"No. Stay. Watch."
His hesitation buzzed through his mana, but he didn't follow.
Salem rose without a word. Her steps always matched mine.
We moved through the corridor — stone underfoot, cold wind threading through archways above. I felt the way the air moved, the way it changed shape. The sound of our boots. The rhythm of her breathing.
Halfway there, I stopped.
Because someone else was waiting.
No movement.
Just… presence.
His mana felt wrong. Not unstable, not poisoned — just off. Like it didn't sit comfortably inside human skin. Edged, humming in patterns I didn't recognize. His heartbeat was steady, but there was something behind it. The silence between the beats felt deliberate.
I turned slightly toward him.
He spoke first.
"Well, well. The famous little blind girl."
His voice wasn't deep — but it had weight. That kind of dragged-at-your-thoughts pressure some people mistake for confidence. It was rehearsed. Practiced. Like he wanted every word to echo.
Salem's mana flared.
"You're a long way from the arena," I said.
"Am I?" he asked. "I was just stretching my legs. And I suppose I got curious. It's not every year they rank a blind child a two. Or call her the favorite."
"Name?" I asked.
A pause.
Then: "They call me The Stranger."
Salem didn't like that.
Her mana sharpened, fanned out around me in a soft perimeter.
I tilted my head. "A name or a performance?"
He chuckled. "Both."
"Team?"
"Thirty-One," he said. "My partner's useful enough. But they paired me with a Rank Five. Unfortunate, but survivable."
He paused, letting the silence stretch.
"Of course, you got stuck with a Rank Eight."
I didn't react.
"Bit embarrassing, don't you think?" he continued. "They must really think you'll carry the both of you. But you won't. Having someone that low beside you — it's not just a weakness. It's a liability. It'll get you killed."
Still no reaction.
"You've got your work cut out for you. Carrying a bottom-feeder like that. Did they pull him from a dormitory cleaners closet, or was this his dream all along?"
I exhaled lightly. "You talk too much."
"Maybe," he said. "But I'm interested. Everyone else in this tournament has blood on their hands or fear in their eyes. You just have a blindfold."
"I don't need eyes," I said.
"Mm. So I've heard." His voice dipped, took on a smile I could hear. "But you've got good taste. I have to give you that. For a demon, she's a real looker."
Salem's presence cracked — just for a second. A soundless, soul-deep flare of heat.
The Stranger leaned slightly forward. "I bet she was very popular before she became your bond. A demon like that? Pretty. Dangerous. Tame."
I stepped closer and found Salem's hand with mine.
Held it.
"She isn't tame," I said quietly. "And she isn't yours to speak about."
A beat of silence.
"You like threats," I said. "But the thing is, I don't kill people for words. I'm better than that."
I turned, still holding Salem's hand.
"But she isn't."
And we walked away.
He didn't follow.
Didn't need to.
I could still feel him watching — like a wolf just out of sight.
The bathroom echoed.
Not with noise — just the shape of the place. Cold stone, old water, magic in the bones of the walls.
I didn't need to use it.
I needed the quiet.
Salem followed. Of course she did.
She stood behind me, near enough I could feel the pull of her mana like heat under my skin. Familiar now. Still wrong in a way I hadn't learned to name.
I leaned against the basin. "You going to say it?"
"Say what?"
"That he was right."
She didn't deny it.
"You don't like Tovin."
"I don't trust Tovin."
"He's trying."
"He's weak. Trying doesn't mean anything in a pit full of incredible mages."
I turned to face her. "And you'd throw him to the wolves, wouldn't you?"
"If it means keeping you from getting hurt," she said without hesitation.
I clenched my jaw. "Not good enough."
"It has to be."
"You think I'm soft?"
She hesitated. "No."
"You think I won't kill if I have to?"
"You will."
"Then don't confuse mercy for weakness. I'm not sparing lives because I can't take them. I'm doing it because I still know the difference between a fighter and a murderer."
Salem went quiet.
"You tried to kill me. And you've been nothing but grateful for my mercy. It's not weak.
There was no anger in my voice.
Just truth.
"I couldn't stop myself," she said. "I didn't choose this bond. I was chained into it."
"And I didn't ask for you," I said. "But here we are."
She stepped forward, mana curling off her like smoke. "That doesn't change what I am."
"No," I said. "It just changes what you do."
She looked at me. "I'd still kill for you. Even if it's not necessary in this tournament."
"It's for me to decide what you do Salem. You don't have a choice."
"I'd do it even if I did."
I didn't flinch. "That's the part that scares me."
She didn't answer.
I found her hand, then her face. Rougher than I expected. A scar below her eye. The tension in her jaw. She was always bracing for impact.
"Nobody here will die," I said. "Healers are in standby and King Beren wont allow it, so don't worry."
"Maybe you're right, this tournament isn't about killing, but there will be days where."
She paused
"You'll have to kill someone."
"You're right. But not today. And not because some rank one idiot decides to size me up in a hallway."
I dropped my hand.
Salem said, "You're not soft."
She stepped forward and hugged me. Fiercely, like she didn't know how else to hold someone but to shield them from the whole world.
"But I won't let you die either," she said.
"You won't have to."
My hand stayed on her cheek.
"I wish I could see your face."
"You're not missing much."
"I don't believe you."
She smiled against my shoulder. "You'd be wrong."
"Also you don't have to worry Salem, because i've killed plenty people already, those who deserve it that is."
She went quiet
Outside, the crowd roared again. Another fight. Another ending.
We stayed one more moment.
Then we turned.
And walked back toward the fighting.
We were almost back to the coliseum stairs when I heard it:
"Is that my little storm?"
I froze.
The voice was unmistakable — soft, smug, amused in that very specific older brother way. I didn't need my Sight to recognize it.
"Ramon," I muttered, almost disbelieving.
"You got taller…again," he said, boots scuffing lightly against stone as he approached.
He stopped in front of me, and I stepped forward, hands reaching. He caught me in a hug before I could find him.
"You left," I said, the words muffled by his shoulder. "Didn't say a damn thing."
"I tried to surprise you. Got here early. Figured I'd run into you eventually."
"You could've said something."
"I didn't want to ruin the drama of a proper reunion."
"You're an idiot."
"You're slow," he said, ruffling my hair. "I've been listening to your voice for five minutes. Took you long enough."
I swatted at him, and he laughed.
Then his tone shifted — still warm, but quieter. "You're doing alright, though. I can tell."
"I'm trying."
His hand dropped away, and I felt the air shift as he looked past me.
"Salem."
"Ramon."
"You two sounded like a married couple in that bathroom back there by the way."
A pause. Thick. Unbreathing.
"Charming as ever," Salem muttered.
I cleared my throat. "Ignore him."
"Oh, I am," she said, a little sharper than usual.
Ramon hummed. "Yeah, okay. That sounded normal."
I sighed. "Are you here alone?"
"I was but your boyfriend's up in the crowd pacing like a nervous cat. I was just gonna go to him until i heard you."
"He's not my boyfriend."
"He will be," he said. "If he survives watching you fight."
Salem's mana flickered faintly behind me. Just a shift. Barely there.
Ramon caught it, of course.
"Touchy," he said under his breath. "Huh."
I reached for his arm again. "You're going to go say hi to Julius, right? Do that. Before I kill you in front of witnesses."
He gave a little bow I could feel more than see. "As you wish, princess."
Then he leaned in closer, voice low. "Hey. I saw the fight list. That guy in Team 31? Don't turn your back on him. He's not… right."
"I know."
He hesitated. "I'll be watching."
"I know that too."
He touched my shoulder once — a brief press — then vanished down the corridor like he'd never been there.
Salem didn't speak for a long moment.
"You okay?" she asked eventually.
I nodded. "He's annoying. But yeah."
We walked the rest of the way in silence — two shadows under the banners, heading back toward the heart of it all.
Back to the edge of something that looked a lot like war.
The sound hit first.
Stone grinding against stone. A cheer cresting. Then another match ending — abrupt, final. The kind of blow you didn't rise from.
I stepped back into the coliseum's shadow, the cool breath of ancient magic brushing my skin like mist. The air was thick now — not just with heat, but tension. Dozens of matches had passed. Too many too fast.
The crowd murmured above like wind through cracked glass.
"Team Twenty-seven… advances."
Salem shifted beside me.
"How many left?"
"Two," she said. "Ours is next."
I nodded, adjusting my footing. The floor beneath had a memory of blood and lightning. I could feel it — a kind of echo, like the magic that had been worked here didn't quite leave.
And then I felt her.
Rōko.
Far side of the arena. Hidden behind stone and sigil and silence, but unmistakable. Her mana hummed in my bones like a blade still ringing after the strike. It was quieter now — still — but not dormant.
Watching.
Waiting.
"I think she's watching me," I said.
Salem's voice came low. "She is."
I tilted my head. "Good. She'll see how we fight."
"No," Salem murmured. "She wants to see if you flinch."
I didn't answer.
Another round of footsteps passed. Nervous. One team leaving. One arriving.
"Team Twenty-Nine: Ressa of Alderdeep, Rank Two. Yuen Velst, Rank Three."
"Team Thirty : Miri of Halworth, Rank two. Lanok Feld, Rank Five."
The crowd barely stirred. Most of these matches had ended in under five minutes. Some under two. A brutal efficiency — no time wasted, no flourish. Just domination. The long matches were still ahead in the next rounds.
Salem and I found our place again behind the watchers' arch. I could feel Tovin's mana before he spoke — tight, ironed flat with nerves.
"We're up next," he said. "Right?"
"Right."
He hesitated. "You okay?"
"Never better," I said.
The wind shifted. Banners above caught it and danced.
And somewhere across the arena, Rōko's mana pulsed once — sharp and silent.
The countdown had begun.