Miri didn't stumble.
She didn't protest.
She stood in the blood-slick sand, naked beneath silk-light, spine bowed in exhaustion. Breath steamed in the chill night air. Her tail flicked behind her—long, lean, a whip of sinew and strength—its tufted end twitching like a fuse about to ignite.
She didn't look at the crowd.
She looked at them.
The siblings. The monsters.
"Come on, then," she rasped, blood dribbling from her lip. "Let's dance."
⸻
They charged in tandem.
Veela moved like a wraith—flickering steel and shifting hips—while Gorran bellowed, hurling his blade like a falling building. Miri ducked under the first swing; her tail whipped up, blocking Veela's dagger—the blade rang on bone and flesh. Miri twisted, heel cracking into the woman's stomach.
Veela grunted, didn't fall.
Gorran was already there—he grabbed Miri's tail mid-whip.
Her eyes widened. "No—!"
He spun her with savage force, slamming her into sand. Bones screamed, blood flooded her mouth, wind torn from her lungs. Tail throbbed with violent tension.
She rolled, dodging Veela's blade as it gouged the sand beside her skull.
"Stop playing with her!" Veela snapped at her brother.
He laughed, dark: "She's still breathing. That's her mistake."
⸻
Nyxia gripped the rail.
"She's not ready," she whispered. Loque leaned into her leg, fur bristling—his spectral heat pulsing beneath her thigh.
Boo growled: "Then we get her out."
Perseus shook his head, eyes fixed on the killers' circle. "She's not done yet."
And he was right.
⸻
Miri whipped upright—muscles spasming, tail lashing low but unbroken.
"You want a show?" she hissed.
Then—vanished.
Not literally—but movement blurred like a dream. She intertwined between Veela's blades, tail snapping up around the archer's neck. Veela choked, slammed into Gorran's gut.
Miri pounced—claws raked across Gorran's face, skin flayed to bone, blood spurted like crushed fruit.
Veela slashed at her—but this wasn't fear. It was fury. Miri screamed—an echo of something lost.
She spun, elbowing Veela's jaw, tail looping around her wobbled leg. Veela crashed to her knees.
Gorran roared—reaching—but Miri vaulted off Veela's form, feet smashing into his face. He collapsed.
The crowd erupted: blood-soaked, stunned.
The collar sparked—once, twice—then glowed.
Not fire. Not Void.
Something hers—real.
Miri lifted her head, gaze piercing directly toward Arioch's box. No smile. Only fangs.
Gold coins clinked in frantic fists, drunken lords screamed down bets, and somewhere in the stands, a noblewoman fainted as Miri, slicked in crimson and madness, crouched like a beast atop Gorran's chest. Her lips pulled back into something not quite a grin, and not quite human. The blood on her thighs, chest, face—none of it hers.
For a moment, the pit went still.
A hush before the slaughter.
Veela rose—fast.Blood dripped from her nose; her dagger missing. She moved like liquid steel—heel cracked Miri's ribs; bone snapped audibly over the roar of the crowd.
Miri hit the ground—rolled, spat blood—stood again in one feral motion. Tail balanced her like a whip soaked in oil and rage.
Loque growled, low and threatening—a living pulse of warning by Nyxia's side.
Gorran staggered, voice gurgling: "I'll gut you."
Miri surged—faster than anything human.
The collar pulsed violently—violet runes flaring like dying starlight. She felt raw magic burn through her spine—her own power, unfiltered.
She howled; the sand trembled.
But she did not break.
She rolled, spat blood, then rose in one feral motion.
The tail was her balance now.
It dragged behind her like the length of a whip soaked in oil and rage, curling and uncurling in anticipation.
Gorran staggered to one knee, face a ruined pulp. "I'll gut you," he gurgled.
"You can try," Miri said—and surged forward.
She moved faster than before, even as her body screamed for mercy. The collar pulsed, violet runes flickering like dying stars. For a second, it looked as though the bindings weakened… and for a moment, she felt it—
A taste of her own magic.
Unfiltered. Raw.
Burning through her spine like divine wrath.
She howled, and the sand around her shivered.
Her claws sank into Gorran's chest—straight through the muscle. He bellowed, but she used the leverage to flip herself onto his back, tail lashing across his face. She slammed his head into the ground once, twice, until something gave. The air left his lungs in a wet wheeze.
But Veela didn't let her finish.
The sister was there again, blades reappearing in her hands like conjured shadows. She slashed—one slicing Miri's bicep open, the other narrowly missing her throat.
Miri twisted, tail catching Veela's wrist mid-swing.
The blade fell.
Veela's eyes widened.
Miri grinned.
"You don't get to touch me."
With one hand, Miri caught Veela by the hair and yanked her forward. Her knee rose up with unflinching force—into the woman's mouth.
Bone cracked. Teeth scattered like pearls across the sand.
Veela went down screaming, hands clutched to her jaw, blood gushing from between her fingers.
The arena erupted.
But Miri wasn't done.
The collar's light brightened—pulsing now like a heartbeat. Something inside her was shifting, and the crowd felt it. She stood taller. Her body didn't just bleed—it glowed. That wasn't fire. That wasn't Void.
That was hers.
The power that had always been buried.
Sealed.
Stolen.
Now, it was clawing to the surface.
In the private box above, Arioch leaned forward, chin resting lazily on his hand. His grin was stretched wide, too wide, the corners of his lips nearly splitting his face.
"She's almost ready," he murmured, only loud enough for the shadows to hear.
Eurydice remained utterly still.
Her gaze locked on the girl in the pit—battered, radiant, dying and divine.
A breath passed. Then she spoke, calm and ice-edged.
"She's going to kill them both."
And she did.
First Gorran.
He tried to rise again—his face half-pulped, eyes barely open. He crawled, one trembling arm pushing through the sand toward his sword.
Miri was behind him in a blink.
She slammed her heel into the back of his head.
Once. Twice.
On the third hit, his skull burst like overripe fruit.
The crowd screamed in ecstasy.
Veela tried to run.
She made it five steps before Miri's tail snapped forward like a whip and caught her around the ankle.
Down she went—face first, broken teeth scattering anew.
Miri walked slowly this time. Not in a rush. Each step carved her into the earth.
She straddled Veela's back, grabbed her by the hair, and pulled her head back until their eyes met.
"You should've stayed down."
She brought her claws across Veela's throat in a brutal arc.
A wet sound. A gurgle.
Then silence.
Veela twitched once. Then went limp.
Miri rose.
Alone.
Victorious.
Her tail swayed behind her like a banner.
And the collar?
Still glowing.
But dimmer now.
She lifted her head and stared directly into the stands—into the faces of Boo, Darj, Perseus… and Nyxia.
Then up—past the banners and torches.
To Arioch.
Her lips curled.
Not a smile.
A warning.
She was done surviving.
Now she would tear it all down.