Chapter 4 #3
Victory… or bitter defeat? Alisa wondered, her heart thrumming in her chest. No one knew yet. In just a few minutes, the answer would be written in motion.
They stepped onto the ice for their six-minute warm-up.
Inhale… exhale… Alisa took a deep breath, letting the chill sting her lungs and awaken her senses.
Around them, the other four pairs glided into place: the Norwegians, leaders after the short program by only two points; the Russians, right on their heels; the Fins in third; and the Danes and Lithuanians rounding out the five.
Every skater moved effortlessly, smiles on their faces, arms flowing, heads held high, as if the ice were a stage made for them alone.
But for Alisa and Lev, every movement was a calculation, every step a mental rehearsal.
The stakes had never been higher: a mistake here could cost them the gold and the chance to qualify for the Olympics.
Lev squeezed Alisa’s hand. The small gesture anchored her. Together, they began their warm-up with light supports, careful spins and precise twizzles. The other skaters blurred at the edge of their vision.
She did glance once, briefly, at the Norwegians.
Their focus was absolute, but it only made Alisa tighten her jaw.
Doesn’t matter, she told herself. The other couples didn’t exist. In that moment, it was just her, Lev, and the ice, the rhythm of their synchronized hearts matching the rhythm of the blades beneath them.
For a fleeting second, as they executed a smooth double twirl, she allowed herself to feel something other than fear, something like confidence.
Alisa pursed her lips and looked up at Lev, who was frowning at her with that familiar intensity. “Focus on the program, not the competition,” he said. “We’re the first, we’ll show them how good we are, right?”
Alisa nodded, gripping his hand tightly. Lev led her into the first support—the one on two hands—and they slid into it easily, the smoothness of the movement giving them a surge of confidence. Everything’s going to go well today, Alisa thought.
But as their warm-up minutes expired and the other couples began dispersing, Alisa stole one last glance toward Tora.
Her rival’s face was calm, almost unreadable, but that sly, almost predatory smile, the one that seemed to hint at some secret plan, seared into Alisa’s mind.
Tora turned her head gracefully, giving a small hand salute, and disappeared down the corridor, leaving Alisa and Lev alone on the ice.
A weight settled over Alisa’s chest. The arena was quieting, the chatter of the crowd dimming.
She felt the tension coil around her like a live wire, and when she looked at Lev, she saw the same storm mirrored in his eyes.
They held each other’s gaze for a long second, feeling the shared anticipation, the pulse of adrenaline that made every muscle in their bodies tremble.
Tora’s smile… that damn smile… Alisa thought, clenching her jaw. It gnawed at her like a persistent shadow. Snorting in frustration, she pushed the thought aside and rolled into the center with Lev, ready for the start.
He squeezed her hand firmly, grounding her, and she nodded. “I’m ready. Let’s show them who’s the coolest here.”
“Let’s show them, baby. Let’s go,” Lev replied, exhaling heavily.
The arena seemed to hold its breath. The applause that had greeted them on the first day had faded, leaving only the soft hum of anticipation.
All eyes were on them as the lights dimmed, leaving a single spotlight tracing the couple in the center.
They were first again, and the pressure felt crushing.
This moment, this performance, would set the bar for everyone else.
The Olympic qualifiers hung in the balance.
Alisa’s whole body vibrated with adrenaline.
When she and Lev stood facing each other, hands clasped, she could feel her heartbeat thundering in her chest, echoing the tension coursing through the ice beneath her blades.
Lev gave her a small nod, and she returned it, chin lifted, eyes sharp and confident.
The music began: Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, Op. 18: I. Moderato – Allegro by Rachmaninoff. And they started their final run, which would decide their fate for the next season. These 5 minutes of fame were starting now!
Hands intertwined, they moved into the Rittberger steps, their legs stretching higher and higher, twisting and spinning with a precision that felt almost predatory like two eagles locked in a deadly, passionate battle.
Then, Lev pivoted abruptly, and Alisa turned her back to him.
He wrapped her in a gentle embrace, his arms firm, as if holding her too tightly might shatter the moment.
Gasps rippled through the audience, some quiet, some sharp and startled, but Alisa and Lev were unaware. The world had shrunk to the span of the ice between them, the tension coiling in every movement, the music, and the synchronized pounding of their hearts.
Their hands unclasped, and the steps began again, gliding across the ice with the fluidity of a single organism.
Twizzles followed immediately, their bodies arching in the swallow pose, blades carving precise arcs into the ice.
Then, without pause, they leapt into the next element—a camel spin with Alisa’s back leg bent elegantly, her hand gripping the skate, her body stretched in a line of grace.
As they exited the spin, they clasped hands again, sliding synchronously, each step gaining speed as they built toward the first support jump.
With an effortless motion, Lev lifted Alisa by the waist, and she spun through the air, parallel to the ice, twisting with perfect control, freezing for a heartbeat as if time itself had paused.
The audience held its collective breath, and then she landed flawlessly back into Lev’s arms. He gently pushed her away and for a fleeting second, their faces hovered near each other, teasing the promise of a kiss.
The music surged, commanding them onward, and the crowd’s excitement escalated.
Hand in hand again, they rolled backward, performing a complex sequence of steps balancing on one edge, switching abruptly to another, showcasing every ounce of their skill.
Legs lifted high, they moved with breathtaking precision.
Lev’s hands supported Alisa at the waist as they continued, and then, with a sudden acceleration, they stepped apart, spinning in mirrored symmetry, before launching into a daring synchronized quadruple jump.
The arena erupted; cheers and applause cascaded through the stands, some spectators leaping from their seats in astonishment.
They had raised the bar. And yet, they were only halfway through.
Sliding into a shared embrace, they continued to the beat of the dramatic music, emphasizing every accent of the choreography.
Their movements were perfectly mirrored—Alisa’s body a reflection of Lev’s.
Then, twisting Alisa around his waist, Lev released her gently, and she placed a hand on his cheek, a fleeting gesture of farewell, drawing a hush from the audience.
Alisa took the lead next, surprising the spectators.
Lev knelt as if in mock repentance, his expression theatrical, and Alisa laughed softly, pushing him away before drawing him back into the tension of the moment, their faces inches apart.
The arena held its breath, caught in the quiet storm of their story.
Lev’s expression shifted to determined and fierce, and he pursued her with renewed intensity.
He lifted Alisa high once more, spinning her rapidly, her body slicing through the air.
In this jump, she faltered slightly, losing perfect balance for a heartbeat, but Lev’s timing and strength saved her, and she landed flawlessly, blades kissing the ice with precise strength.
The audience erupted into wild applause, the energy almost tangible, as Alisa’s lips curved into a relieved smile at her partner.
Alisa and Lev accelerated across the ice, their blades slicing in perfect unison as they prepared for the next support.
The Lev lifted her high above his head on both outstretched arms, and Alisa elegantly settled into a cross-split, spinning with him around their axis.
Then, with the grace of a ballerina, she released one hand, raising it elegantly toward the ceiling.
For a heartbeat, she stretched fully across his arm, stomach down, one leg bent in a dramatic “P” shape, before Lev caught her again.
Alisa clung to his neck, one hand gripping the blade of her bent leg, as he supported her gently by the waist and shin.
With a smooth motion, he straightened, releasing her onto the ice, and they flowed seamlessly back into synchronized steps.
The slow entry into the death spiral followed.
Alisa arched her body, one arm sweeping over her face and neck, then lowering to her hip as she leaned back on Lev’s supporting arm.
The crowd gasped, mesmerized. It was clear: this pair had a real shot at victory today, even against the top contenders from Norway who had narrowly edged them out in the short program.
As they exited the spiral, they embraced passionately, as if reunited after some great trial. They accelerated again, spinning into a pistol position, then rising into a camel spin, finally stretching to full height, one leg extended gracefully, commanding the arena with their presence.
The music swelled dramatically, and they launched into the final elements.
Rittberger steps carried them forward, twizzles spinning them with precision, then a triple Axel followed by a triple Lutz.
The audience erupted, cheering, some standing, unable to contain themselves at the sight of such artistry and athleticism.