17 || Hollow and Hostile
Glee, desire, a pleasurable tingle running down her spine — that was what Morana usually felt when her fist collided with her opponent's nose.
The crack of bone that pierced through the roaring crowd around them and the blood splattered onto the arena ground would always make her magic sing.
However, nothing could muzzle Silas' words which echoed over and over in her mind.
Kill your sister.
The necromancer dodged the blow the Minotaur she faced threw toward her with his spiked tail. While he regained his balance from where he had stumbled, nearly toppling over the rope barriers, Morana took the opportunity to swipe his legs out from underneath him with a swift kick to the knees.
"You bitch." The Minotaur spat a tooth onto the ground as it had come loose when he hit his jaw on the fall down. "That was a dirty move."
Beady, yellow eyes complimented by the horns splattered with golden paint were some of the only menacing features the half-bull had.
The end of his tail had been swapped with the head of a morning star and appeared to be a fierce weapon from afar, but in battle, it was merely an uncontrollable hazard.
While the other fighters Morana had faced bore strength and muscle from years of training, the human half of the Minotaur was skinny and frail.
"If you think that was dirty, you're in the wrong place." She sniffed and a metallic taste coated her tongue from the blood dripping down her own nose. Not even pain could distract her from the new mission she had been set.
When the assassin placed a steel-toed boot on her opponent's chest, the crowd around them began counting down from five.
The Minotaur struggled, pushing against her leg with both hands, but nothing could get her to release the pressure on his ribs.
As the count reached zero, the cheers that burst out swallowed them whole.
"Newcomer Bone Girl secures another victory!
" A voice boomed from the top of the fight club's bar.
Hidden behind the rotting, wood panelling was an Imp swathed in a deep navy coat and dazzled with studs of gold pierced into his skin.
He used a hollowed conch shell to make his announcement.
"It's only her third match of the night and she's shown up some of the best fighters we have to offer! "
Hollow and Hostile was a secret fight club buried in a cave on the coast of the Lost Abyss.
Encased in pointed stone as if it were the teeth of an unnerving creature, a group of Imps had carved out an area for an arena and forged a makeshift bar in an attempt to make money.
As word of the new club spread through bounty hunters, underlords, and rogues alike, the business began to boom.
"Would you be up for another round, miss?" Another Imp rushed to the side of the arena carrying several bags of gold. At least while she was failing to get her boss' voice out of her head, other people were finding Morana profitable from the bets they placed.
She adjusted her mask and hood from where they had slipped in battle. "I'll sit the next few out. Someone else can claim some glory for now." Ducking under the ropes, she made her way to a small table at the far end of the cave.
Fights at Hollow and Hostile were all about strength and skill, so magic of any kind was prohibited. Morana knew she couldn't trust herself not to use a bone shard or three, so she left them with a trusted source. Who better to leave them with than the person she bought them from?
"That was fast," Larsa commented, sliding the necromancer's weapons across the alcohol-slicked surface. "Are you not going to sign up for more? You were making everyone a small fortune."
The Half-Orc had painted the spikes trailing along the length of her arms a vibrant shade of pink for the occasion of visiting the fight club, her blunt claws also a matching colour.
Instead of the usual blood-soaked apron and gut-covered clothes she wore to work, she now adorned a tight corset laced with ribbons and a long, silk skirt which brushed against the cave's floor.
Morana weighed the pouch in her hand, checking to make sure none of them had been taken. "I wanted to clear my head but it isn't working." When she confirmed each shard was still in place, she slumped onto the table and buried her head in her arms.
How could Silas betray her like that? He knew that her sister was important to her — ignoring the fact that she hadn't seen her in a decade — so why would he ask her to kill her twin?
Ilyana hadn't done anything to warrant his attention and now he had placed a bounty atop her head for Morana to claim.
She had even given him an alternative route, asking him to set someone else up for the job, but it had to be her.
It always had to be her.
Grabbing Larsa's drink, she downed it and winced as a strong burn scratched the back of her throat. The green-skinned woman didn't seem to notice her stolen beverage as she was busy winking at someone behind the assassin.
Morana turned to see a woman with a group of her friends, only, she wasn't paying attention to the bets they were making.
With only undergarments crafted from pickings of fushia coral covering her body and jewellery of gold pierced into her skin, the Siren winked at the butcher.
She ran her long tongue up the length of her finger, never once breaking eye contact with Larsa.
"You can go after her, if you want," she offered with a sigh and an eye roll. "I don't need you to look after my bones anymore."
"No more fights for the night?" Her smirk broke when she looked back at Morana.
The next set of fighters climbed into the arena, preparing for their battle. A crowd formed at the betting booth, the sound of coins and wagers being taken before it began echoing off the walls.
"No." The assassin waved her hand. "Go and get your woman."
"Before I leave, someone was watching you earlier who looked like he wanted to talk. He left this in front of your seat and then ominously walked off into the darkness over there." Larsa motioned her head to the other side of the cave.
From what Morana knew, there wasn't much lurking in the shadows where the stranger had wandered.
The fights weren't visible from such an enclosed area which made it unpopular with Hollow and Hostile's customers.
All it held was an emergency exit carved into the cliff face, and spots to hook up or get stabbed depending on what the night held.
The card that Larsa passed her was familiar. A shakily drawn crescent moon surrounded the text which read 'free drink coupon', accompanied by the Defiant Moon Tavern's logo on the other side.
"Thank you." The necromancer watched the butcher pull up a seat next to the Siren and sit on it backwards, reaching out to intertwine her fingers with her sharpened claws.
Not wanting to feel even worse for herself, Morana secured her bone shards back to her belt and headed off in the direction Larsa had signalled towards.
Out of all the places to find her, Itros had to turn up here and now.
She kept to one side of the cave wall as she passed a group of bounty hunters sharpening their weapons, sneaking past before they could set their eyes on her.
However, as she scoured the hidden corners and concealed nooks, the bartender was nowhere to be seen.
All that was left was a staircase of metal sheets leading up to the viewing balconies.
Morana grabbed a handful of bones in case the card was an elaborate scheme for an ambush, preparing to send them flying into the necks of her enemies. Though, at the top, she found a man standing by himself watching the fight below.
A set of curved, onyx horns were stark against the light of the bar and arena below them and were the only feature that gave away Itros' identity from behind. He wore a thick cloak with the hood hanging loose at his neck, the beginnings of a tattoo creeping up his nape.
"I never thought you could leave the tavern," the assassin mused aloud. "Who's running the place if you're here? Don't tell me you closed to come and find me." She joined his side, leaning on the rusted railing. One forceful shove and the support would fall onto the tables below.
"There's this concept called staff." Itros inhaled from a cigar and breathed out a cloud of orange smoke. "They may not have my charm, but they do a decent job of holding everything together."
"How did you know I was here?" She had made sure to keep her appearance concealed all night as she hadn't wanted any extra problems when she had enough to deal with already.
The bartender chuckled. "Who else is going to give themselves a fighter name of Bone Girl?"
"You have a point," Morana grumbled. Below, a Druid and an Elf reached for each other's faces in an attempt to pin their opponent to the ground. The necromancer could only shake her head at the feeble attacks they gave.
"Thank you for the information you gave me last night about.
.. your boss." Itros glanced around them, making sure others weren't listening in.
Mentioning Silas' name in a place like Hollow and Hostile was asking for trouble.
"While they can't leave the island, a few of my contacts who reckon they may be made redundant have gone into hiding.
All they can hope now is that he doesn't find them and the wall disappears soon.
" He side glanced at her with wariness lurking in his dark eyes, as if he still found her to be a suspect of Wyrith's latest phenomenon.
His reasoning had to be more than her hair colour matching the shade of the magic used.
"How did your day with that Fireborn go? "
"Eventful." The smoke from Itros' cigar made her eyes water. "You don't tend to meet up with people for a simple catch-up. If you want information from me, I don't give it up freely."
"Why is nobody in the mood for small talk these days?
It's no fun when your discussions are nothing but business.
" He finished his cigar with one last puff of bronze and stubbed it out on the balcony rail.
Ashes fell to the ground and onto the people below them, making a few angered faces glare at them.
"I do have some information about the Fireborn King.
I was going to send the coupon to your place tomorrow, but then I saw you fighting tonight.
My source was watching some servants carry the Vahan royals' belongings to the castle and they found something interesting. "
"Something that links to what he might be a hybrid of?" Morana questioned.
"If you look at it from an angle, perhaps." Itros dropped his rolled cigar and crushed it underneath his boot.
"Go on, then. The information you receive in return will be equal to what you give me." With the events earlier that day, she already had a hunch as to what King Matthian could be. Anything extra would help to prove her theory or disregard it entirely.
The bartender scanned the area behind them to make sure there wasn't someone creeping up the stairs and listening in on them.
"My source stayed at the docks for hours today as the servants escorted all of the Vahan's belongings in carts.
However, only one item was taken in a carriage with a group of royal guards — a glass case with something cushioned inside. "
"Which is?" Morana didn't have the patience to play guessing games.
"A dragon egg," Itros lowered his voice so not even those with heightened hearing could discover the secret. "It was unmistakable. There aren't any other creatures that have eggs which look like they've been encased with obsidian. There were flecks of red of the shell too."
Her theory was correct. It was no wonder why Damian was so certain he could get a scale with only a week to acquire it — his brother had to be half Fireborn and half Dragon.
"That is very useful." Where did that leave fire boy? If his brother was a hybrid, was he one too? Perhaps his plan wasn't to get a scale from his brother, but from himself.
"It makes me wonder if the Wyrith royals know about this fact." He drummed his fingers along the metal railing, watching Morana for hints of secrets he could pull to add to his collection. "Now, what do you have for me?"
As much as she was angry with Silas and had the opportunity to spill the details of his plans, if news got around that she was the source, she would be left without a home or job. Perhaps a fate deemed to be even worse. She had no option but to go with something less extreme.
"While the Fireborn King may have an abundance of flames to wield, his brother might not." A twinge of regret already formed in her chest for creating a rumour about Damian that would circle the Lost Abyss, but she needed to give Itros something of equal value.
"How did you find that out?" the bartender asked with an arched brow.
"That's none of your concern." Morana folded her arms over her chest. "Either the prince has no fire, weak fire, or a fear of it. Take your pick on what you think it may be."
"These brothers have a lot more secrets than I originally thought.
" Itros grinned at his newfound knowledge and pulled up the hood of his cloak.
"As always, if I have anything worth your time, I'll send a free drink your way.
" With a wink, he made his way toward the staircase and left the necromancer at the balcony's edge by herself.
While their conversation had brought a temporary quiet to her mind and pushed Silas' demand to the back of her thoughts, she was no closer to deciding what she was going to do now.
She only had until morning to figure out how to work her way out of killing her twin, but no threads of hope or strands of a plan formed as she dug deep for a solution.
What was she going to do?