Chapter 26
The girls didn’t speak to each other until the free skate. No one attempted contact; both were locked into their own preparation, and it wasn’t the time for confrontation.
Alisa sat in the dressing room, watching the live feed on the screen. Tora was next to skate, and Alisa would be the last in the group. She could only hope the ice would still hold up after five skaters before her.
She bounced slightly on her feet in front of the screen as Tora appeared, already in her striking Lara Croft-inspired costume. The arena announced her, and she skated out waving to the audience before gliding to center of the ice, where her program would begin.
Tora lowered herself to her knees at center ice, hands covering her face.
Then, as the music built, she slowly revealed herself with a confident smile.
She pushed forward on her knees, rose smoothly onto one blade, and flowed backward with controlled arm movements that looked almost choreographed like combat precision and dance combined.
She quickly drew pistols from her thighs and aimed at invisible targets across the arena, and the crowd immediately erupted into loud cheers.
Then the rhythm shifted.
She transitioned into a butterfly jump parallel to the ice, landing softly into flow. The pistols were holstered with a sharp gesture, as she continued seamlessly into footwork that carved precise patterns across the ice. The audience applauded after nearly every transition.
She lifted her foot as if to kick it, then slowly sliced through the air with her sharp blade before accelerating into her jumps just as the music, on the contrary, softened.
And then, when the song finally rose into the chorus, she performed her first jump — the triple axel.
Perfect. It was perfect! Dammit! People clapped and shouted from their seats in support of Tora, and almost immediately after the twizzle sequence that felt like one hundred rotations, she launched into a triple lutz with triple flip cascade, landing both perfectly.
Alisa’s heart beat faster with every flawlessly executed element, but she could not take her eyes off her rival on the ice…
Tora lifted her arms above her head, smiling as if acknowledging both the crowd and the moment itself, then accelerated into a Spread Eagle position, gliding across the ice with her arms open and chest lifted toward the judges.
It was effortless. She was so confident…
And then, without losing speed, Tora launched into a triple loop with another clean landing.
The crowd erupted again.
Almost immediately she transitioned into another jump, a triple flip, landing softly before flowing straight into a twizzle sequence. Her blades barely seemed to touch the ice as she accelerated through intricate footwork, changing edges rapidly through Mohawks, turns, and quick transitions.
The step sequence stretched across nearly the entire rink, fast and difficult, before she opened once again into a sweeping Spread Eagle, arms extended as the music surged around her.
Then she dropped dramatically onto one knee, sliding across the ice. The arena applauded instantly at the sheer theatricality of it.
Without pause, she built speed again and entered another jump pass.
Her spins followed—first a Biellmann spin, then a spiral position flowing into a fast sit spin, rotating rapidly with one leg bent beneath her. The speed of the rotation blurred the details of her costume beneath the lights.
Another jump. Then another. Then a final solo jump, all executed with the same impossible calmness that had defined her entire performance.
She transitioned back into a camel variation, then lowered into a difficult catch-foot sit position, holding the blade with both hands before rising smoothly out of it.
Then came the Ina Bauer.
Her body arched deeply backward, one knee bent in front while the other leg stretched elegantly behind her, the position creating a dramatic curve through her entire body as she glided across the ice under the spotlight.
The audience roared again.
She entered another complex step sequence—threes, choctaws, brackets—executed cleanly at high speed before transitioning into a split jump across the ice.
And then came the Charlotte spiral.
Tora folded herself down toward the supporting leg while the free leg extended vertically upward into a near-perfect split line, creating a position that looked almost unreal in motion. The arena reacted immediately, applause spreading through the stands again.
Finally, she returned to center ice, entering one last camel spin.
The rotation slowed gradually as she lifted her leg higher and higher, perfectly centered beneath the lights, until suddenly she stopped sharply in her final pose, smiling brightly as the music ended.
The arena exploded with applause.
And through all of it, Alisa watched every element.
It felt like today belonged entirely to Tora.
She had taken first place across the entire standings table, and now only one skater remained. Alisa. The final performance of the women’s competition. Somehow, that made the pressure feel even heavier.
Alisa could still hear the crowd applauding for Tora, could still feel the energy surrounding the new leader of the event.
209.90.
The highest score on the board.
And then Alisa’s name was called.
For the last time.
Something inside her skipped a beat. She still carried a lingering fear, something almost like PTSD, tied to the way skaters were called onto the ice.
Maybe it came from all the failed attempts, from being yelled at, humiliated, and emotionally beaten down for years…
Or maybe she was simply terrified of losing herself and disappointing everyone around her.
To catch up to Tora, to surpass her, Alisa would have to skate the performance of her life.
Alisa inhaled slowly.
Exhaled.
Then, with her eyes closed and her hands crossed tightly against herself, she stepped onto the ice.
The arena applauded as the final skater entered the rink. Alisa waved briefly to the audience, deliberately looking toward the farthest, highest rows of the stadium so she wouldn’t accidentally see Tora.
Because one glance at her now might destroy everything holding her together.
Alisa skated to the center of the ice as Descending by Sleep Token began to play through the arena.
The crowd immediately fell silent.
Her black feathered costume, dark and dramatic like a fallen angel dragged out of heaven itself, caught the light with every movement.
The sharp black lines around her eyes looked like blades capable of cutting through the air with a single glance.
Her expression was terrifyingly serious, and the emotions inside her were even worse—heavy, uncontrollable, consuming her from the inside out.
Everything that had happened with Tora over the past few days was killing her.
The opening beat started low and restrained, and Alisa moved her arms slowly like wings unfolding toward the audience with first one side and then the other.
She dropped sharply onto one knee, spinning across the ice while clutching her head with both hands before rising into a rigid, almost militant stance, chin lifted slightly forward as if challenging the entire arena.
And then she saw her.
Tora stood behind the cameras near the boards, watching silently, without expression.
Alisa skated past slowly, but that single glance was enough. The emotions crashed into her all over again.
She snapped her leg upward as if striking through the air itself, the blade slicing sharply beneath the spotlight.
Then she entered a circular edge movement, gliding around her supporting leg with deep control before flowing directly into a Charlotte spiral, folding herself downward while her free leg stretched upward into a near-vertical split line.
The audience applauded immediately.
Alisa accelerated into difficult footwork—twizzles, Mohawks, rapid edge changes, complex turns layered one after another to increase difficulty and score. Her blades carved violently precise patterns into the ice as she built speed for the first major jumping pass.
Then she exploded upward into a quadruple Lutz.
Clean landing.
The arena erupted.
She smiled for the first time—a sharp, almost dangerous smile—and immediately entered a jump combination: quadruple Salchow into quadruple Lutz. The landings were tight, her body fighting to hold itself together through momentum and adrenaline.
The music intensified around her.
Alisa dropped into an Ina Bauer, her back arching deeply while one leg bent forward and the other extended behind her, the movement stretching dramatically across the rink like something breaking open emotionally.
Then she launched into a split jump parallel to the ice before dropping into a sit spin, extending one leg outward in a pistol position.
She rose almost vertically from the spin, pulling herself upward into a catch-foot variation, body bending with unnatural flexibility as she rotated faster and faster.
And then came the backflip.
The crowd gasped and jumped from their seats.
Alisa landed it cleanly and immediately flowed into a fast cantilever, her body nearly horizontal as she glided low across the ice like gravity itself had loosened its grip on her.
She accelerated again. Faster this time. She was desperate.
Then came the quadruple Axel.
She launched into it with sheer force, rotating violently before landing on a dangerously unstable edge. Her leg wobbled hard beneath her, but she stayed upright.
That was what mattered.
Even so, she knew the judges would take points away for the shaky landing.
Everything was beginning to slip. The quads weren’t perfect. The program wasn’t unfolding the way she had imagined it.
So Alisa did the only thing she knew how to do.
She pushed harder.
Almost immediately she entered another combination that included a quadruple Salchow into quadruple flip. The exits were rougher now, exhaustion beginning to show beneath the perfection she was trying to maintain.
The pressure was crushing her.