Chapter 21 - Isi
ISI
The cold stone beneath seeped through my boots like winter fingers. But the chill couldn’t touch the dread coiling around my ribs, creeping into my lungs until each breath felt stolen.
We stood in the narrow alcove behind the arena, six bodies pressed against ancient walls that had witnessed centuries of terror.
Each of us took turns peering through the jagged slit carved into the stone, a window designed by cruel architects who understood that anticipation was its own form of torture.
Just enough view to see death coming. Never enough to prepare oneself for it.
One by one, the groups ahead of us had faced the pit. Some emerged bonded, stumbling through the exit gate on the opposite side with their new companions. Others…didn’t leave as they’d entered. Guards took them out. They did it in a humane way, but did it truly matter if you were dead?
The crowd’s hunger pulsed through the thick walls. Cheers rose and fell in waves, punctuated by the screams of fellow recruits. Wild applause was followed by sudden silence. All of it filtered through the stone until it sounded like joy shattering the solemn quiet of a tomb.
Through the slit, I’d watched enough to understand what was going on.
A massive beast with tusks like sword blades had trampled a man mid-sprint, leaving behind only crimson-soaked stone and shredded fabric.
A woman with braided hair had screamed as fangs pierced her chest, her voice cutting off as she crumpled to the ground.
But then there was the tall, slender man who’d dropped to his knees with his hands outstretched.
A winged bull-like beast had descended, lifting him all the way to the ceiling before dropping him.
I had to say one thing for the audience. They’d remained silent for that one.
My stomach clenched, bile crawling up my throat. I pressed my forehead against the stone wall, letting the cold sink into my bones. Revulsion sat in my gut like poison, but beneath it, fire was building.
My fear had been a wire pulled taut since I’d first arrived at this place. But now it snapped, and fury rushed in to fill the void.
I hadn’t grown up here. I didn’t understand their traditions. If I had, maybe I could’ve prepared better.
No matter what, I refused to die here.
I’d survived those giving mercy to anyone with a hint of magic in my homeland.
I’d dodged the seekers slipping through palace corridors like ghosts, eager to catch someone moving an object without physical effort.
I’d endured the knives that found their way into dark corridors, or spent countless nights holding Addie’s trembling body while she fought nightmares I couldn’t chase away.
All that suffering, all that survival, would not end with me a stain on that arena floor.
I had promises to keep. Names to uncover. Blood to avenge.
I’d unravel this court’s pretty lies thread by thread until the whole tapestry came apart in my hands, then go home and do the same with my own court. Because neither was better than the other.
It was past time to burn everything down from within, and it would start here, in this pit of their making.
Trumpets rang out inside the arena, a call for more blood. The sound settled in my spine like a death knell.
Our turn.
I pivoted from the wall to face my companions.
Lexie’s face had lost most of its color, but her jaw remained set, sweat beading at her temples.
Kerralyn’s hands trembled as they tightened on the bag hanging from her shoulders.
She’d carefully tucked her journal inside, stroking it one final time, whispering, I’ll write in you again soon.
Bryson stood with his shoulders squared, but tension locked his jaw.
Derren leaned against the wall, drumming his fingers on his thigh.
There was steel in them all. Fates help us, there was steel.
“They want a show,” I said. “Let’s give them survival instead.”
Lexie pulled me into a fierce embrace. “See you on the other side,” she whispered.
Kerralyn nodded, her fingers brushing my forearm in a silent promise that we’d find each other again.
Bryson met my eyes, his broad frame both protective and vulnerable. “Storms don’t last forever. Just stand through it.”
Derren touched my elbow. “They’ll see what’s in us. Stay upright.”
My gaze finally fell on Maddox, standing apart from the others, watching me with an expression I couldn’t read. No cocky smirk right now. No blazing anger in his eyes. Just something dark and complicated and, fates help me, something that appeared to be concern.
I had to be misreading him.
He lifted his chin, spun on his heel, and strode toward the gate without saying a word.
We followed, our footsteps echoing in the narrow passage beyond.
I took the rear before moving up to stride in the middle where I could reach out to save any who might be attacked. I’d be strong for them, the same way I’d once promised to be with my sister. While I hadn’t been able to protect her, I could my friends.
The gate groaned open with a sound like some great beast clearing its throat. Sunlight exploded across us, searing my vision white as we stepped into the pit.
The arena was huge, carved from white stone that had been stained pink and blue. Death dressed in marbled glory, with soaring walls curving up toward an open dome where sunlight poured through a gap.
People sat on stone benches built in elevated rows encircling the big open arena. They watched, silent.
Trew sat on a stone throne in the shadowed viewing box adorned with silver banners.
Even from this distance, I could feel him. His presence hummed beneath my skin like electricity before a storm, making my teeth ache and my pulse stutter.
He wore a dark tunic embroidered with silver thread, deceptively simple, the kind of understated wealth that cost more than most people earned in a lifetime. He leaned back in his throne like he owned not only this arena but the very sky above.
His fingers drummed on the carved armrest in a slow, irregular rhythm that somehow felt more menacing than any weapon held to my chest.
I hated the way my breath snagged in my throat. Hated the pull I felt to go to him.
Enormous beasts milled about on the opposite side of the arena, a plethora of creatures from a nightmare or a dream. They hadn’t been caged or chained. They simply waited with the patience of predators who knew their time would come.
Scaled ones with eyes like burning coals. Furred ones with muscles that rippled beneath their pelts. Feathered ones with wingspans that could blot out the sun. All deadly. All calm in a way that made my spine crawl.
They didn’t pace or snarl or foam at the mouth like wild animals should. They watched us with intelligence, evaluating, considering. Their silence felt worse than any roar.
This was a celebration of power, bloody and public and monstrous.
A theater written in violence.
This final chapter in the Rite of Bonds also began without announcements or the explanation of rules. We stood in place as the beasts began to move.
A dragon lifted off the ground and soared closer, landing lightly in front of us. Lexie gasped and ran toward it, her scream-laugh bursting from her lungs. Part terror, all wild joy. The dragon dipped its head low, allowing her to touch its forehead, and the air shimmered around them.
She laughed and raced around the giant beast who watched indulgently as if she was a sweet child. She stopped by its side, and it dropped to the stone floor. A scramble, and she settled herself on its spine.
The dragon leaped, and they soared upward through the dome opening, vanishing into the blue beyond.
The crowd erupted with cheers.
Derren’s bonded beast was horned like a bull but as graceful as a deer. It lowered its big head and allowed him to rest his palm on its brow. The moment of contact sent ripples through the air. I could feel the bond forming, a spiraling, dizzying pull that almost made me stagger.
Tears streamed down Kerralyn’s cheeks as a serpent with scales like black mirrors wound around her in whispering coils, securing their bond. Her sobs turned to laughter, and they left through the opposite gate of the arena.
Bryson and even Maddox found a bond from the beasts on the floor of the arena, to cheers from the crowd.
Finally, I stood alone on the stained stone floor.
I glanced toward the box, finding Trew watching me. His jaw clenched so hard I could see it from across the arena. He shifted on his throne, and I inanely wondered if this was affecting him as much as it was me.
A long, sinewy feline with fur that gleamed like polished metal padded close enough to me that I could feel its breath, warm and meaty, on my skin.
Its dark eyes studied me with uncomfortable intelligence.
It paused, tilting its head, but unless its hearing was better than mine, it heard only silence.
With a huff, it turned and strode across the arena, exiting through the gate.
Another circled me, head undulating, its gaze cool and calculating. A third joined it, then a fourth. They shifted like predators tasting the air around prey, before they pivoted and left as well.
Heat flooded my cheeks, my shame given physical form. My skin prickled with embarrassment that felt worse than any wound.
I couldn’t breathe. The air felt too thin, too hot.
I needed this bond to remain in Syllavar, but how could I want it when I’d soon destroy this place and leave?
Around me, the crowd stirred. Their whispers built, stacking on top of each other. What’s happening? This has never... Will they all reject her?
The arena blurred, but I refused to cry. My breathing rasped like I’d been plunged underwater.
Laughter rang out. A whistle.
None of it touched me.
I remained a single pinprick of silence in the center of a torturous spectacle.
Glancing up, I found Trew’s gaze still locked on me.