The arena simmered like a storm about to break. Every breath carried the weight of fear, fury, and something worse—helplessness. Ynara crouched behind a scorched slab of stone, chest heaving, ears ringing from a blast that had nearly torn her apart.
She didn't remember how she got here. She remembered her room, her books, the sound of rain outside—and then nothing. Now the air was thick with ash and blood, and the sky above looked bruised and broken. This place didn't feel like the world she knew. It felt deeper. Older. Watching.
Across the cracked arena floor, her opponent moved with terrifying confidence. His auburn hair shimmered, cybernetic limbs slicing the air with sharp precision. He looked human, but wrong. Too graceful. Too gleeful. And worse—he lingered.
His eyes dragged across her face, then her chest, then lower. Not fast like he was sizing her up. Slow. Calculated. Amused.
"Look at you," he said, voice like oil slicked over gravel. "Those lips, that body... gods, I could make time disappear with a girl like you."
He took another step forward, slow and savoring. "Bet you scream real nice. Bet you break even prettier."
Ynara's throat tightened. It wasn't just fear now. It was disgust. Violation. Her fingers curled into fists.
"Stay back," she said, voice hoarse.
He moved forward.
She flung her hands up—expecting nothing.
But fire erupted from her palms.
It wasn't heat. It was rage. Raw, untrained, erupting from the core of her chest. The blast flung him backwards, crashing him into a column of blackened stone.
She gasped, staring at her hands. They smoked faintly. She shook, not from exhaustion—but from something remembered. Something familiar. A spark that didn't start in this place.
She didn't have time to process. He recovered fast. Too fast. A blur of movement. Then a kick.
The impact to her head shattered thought. She collapsed.
Everything blurred. Her cheek pressed against the hot, dusty ground. The weight of him approached again—too close, too quiet. A sharp pressure brushed her collarbone. She felt it then: the cool edge of a blade or device resting just over her heart.
He whispered, too low for the others to hear, "You move, and I split you open. But don't worry—I'll enjoy every moment before that."
Her chest tightened.
He's not just going to kill me.
He's going to take everything first. Laugh while doing it.
I'd rather die than let him touch me.
Some things... are worse than death.
Her eyes burned. She shut them, heart hammering. Five, she whispered to herself. I'll count to five. And on three... I move.
One.
Two.
She began to rise—but just as she did, he shifted.
He lowered the weapon, laughing to himself, mistaking her trembling for surrender.
Three.
She pushed forward anyway.
The sharp gasp that escaped his throat was startled—unready. He hadn't expected resistance. Worse, he thought she wanted him closer.
But he didn't strike immediately. Instead, his voice dripped close, too close—just above her ear.
"Maybe I'll keep you instead," he murmured. "You're pretty when you're scared. Makes the ending more exciting."
She flinched, jaw clenched. His fingers grazed her shoulder, and nausea surged. A hot, helpless panic rose up her throat. She shut her eyes as dread
"Shame," he added, drawing out the word. "I could've had fun stretching this out someplace quieー"
A different sound split the air—bright, clean, powerful.
When she opened her eyes, the boy was gone. In his place: a small crater of glowing slag.
Above her: green eyes, blazing.
"Elise?"
Her younger sister knelt, one hand still crackling with residual flame. Her jaw was clenched, her gaze not just fierce—but livid.
"I heard what he said," Elise muttered. "I should've burned him slower."
Ynara blinked. Elise's fury wasn't just righteous—it was personal. She knew this look. It was the same one Elise used when some creep at the mall had stared too long.
"I thought I was going to—"
A sob caught in Ynara's throat. "I thought I was going to—"
"Shh. You're not. Not yet."
She helped Ynara lean back against the stone. For a moment, they just breathed. Then Elise smirked slightly.
"Remember 'mirror world'?"
Ynara blinked. "The game?"
"You always made me the knight with fire powers. Said it made me feel braver."
Ynara let out a wet laugh. "Yeah, and you kept pretending the trees whispered secrets if we stood still long enough."
"Maybe they were trying to warn us." Elise's smile faded slightly. "This place… it feels like that game. Except real. And wrong."
"Except we don't get to choose our roles now."
More figures stirred in the distance, emerging from the shadows—some with metal limbs, some with flickering weapons. They didn't approach. Yet.
Ynara stiffened, but Elise placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Stay down. We need to find the others and regroup. But if it gets bad—really bad—you know the plan."
Ynara hesitated. "What plan?"
Elise smiled. "The Unbroken. Blue eyes. Black hair. I saw him just before I got to you. The ruin bent around him, like it knew him. If anyone makes it out of mirror world, it's always the Unbroken."
"Yes. Then we circle back to each other."
"Like we always do. Even if it's real."
"Elise, you're not making sense—"
"Just promise me you'll be here when I return."
Ynara hesitated. Then nodded.
"Promise."
Elise gave her a quick nod and stood. Flames began to rise again around her hands.
"Knight with fire powers," Ynara whispered.
"Always," Elise whispered back smiling. Then louder, over her shoulder: "Stay low!"
Ynara's vision doubled. Her limbs sagged.
"Elise…" she mumbled, slurring. "Don't go far…"
"I'm not," Elise whispered, brushing a hand over her sister's brow. "You'll be okay."
Ynara passed out before she could respond.
Elise exhaled shakily, then glanced around. With what little strength she had left in her flames, she pulled debris—stone, ash, broken planks—over Ynara's body. Not enough to crush. Just enough to cover. To hide. To buy her time.
"She's will not be prey," she muttered to the ruins. "Not today."
Then she turned into the storm.
Elise had never liked arenas. Not in books. Not in gym class. Not as metaphors. But she had always stepped into them. Maybe that was the difference between her and Ynara. Where Ynara retreated, Elise ran forward.
She had been brave, even when no one was watching. Even when bravery meant covering for Ynara's absence at school or walking her home in silence after another group of boys had stared too long. She wasn't born the bold one—she became it, because someone had to be.
And in becoming it, she had learned how to carry fire—quietly, stubbornly—until now, when it finally caught flame.
Yet here she was.
She remembered her room. The half-written letter. The quiet hum of the fan. The ache she never spoke aloud—of always being in the shadow of a sister too beautiful for her own good. Ynara never meant to be that way, but the world had noticed her before it noticed Elise.
But Elise had fire. And it had finally found a use for it.
Then came the fire that wasn't imagined. The one that tore her from that world.
Now, she felt like her younger self again. The version of her that stood next to Ynara, barefoot on warm tile floors, pretending their living room was a battlefield of magic and ruins.
The fire was real now.
Enemies emerged, shadow-slick and steel-edged. Two charged. Elise's hands pulsed. Fire met flesh. One burned, the other stumbled.
But the third didn't slow.
A violet bolt hit her thigh. Pain crashed into her bones. She screamed.
"No—no—get up," she growled, forcing herself upright. One more shield.
"GET BACK!" she roared, fire spiraling outward.
Then—shatter. She fell again.
Lying there, breath fading, she looked up.
Electric blue eyes. Strange headgear. A presence that made the ruin pause.
Her thoughts flickered. The Unbroken. He doesn't even know yet… but the ruin does.
As her body failed her and the last of the flames guttered in her palms, Elise tilted her head just slightly—toward the rubble.
Two eyes blinked through a narrow crack beneath the collapsed wood and dust. Ynara.
Somehow, she had woken. Too petrified to move. Unable to scream despite her efforts.
But she saw.
Their eyes met.
Elise smiled—soft, full of love, full of I told you so.
Then the blows struck. Final. Clean.
And Elise fell.
Ynara didn't blink. She couldn't.
Tears streamed silently down her face.
And the ruin listened.