Chapter 7 Break Me in Half Like a Twig
Break Me in Half Like a Twig
The gates groaned open with the sound of grinding stone and ancient hinges, revealing a city perfectly planned and carved.
The walls weren’t just built—they had been forged, it seemed, from blood, sweat, and tears.
Each block of stone bore the imprint of a hammer strike or chisel mark, as though the entire place had been constructed by hand.
We stepped inside, and the temperature shifted.
The air was dry, touched by the faint scent of iron and smoke.
Wide, cobbled streets spread before us, lined with tall, symmetrical buildings that stood like sentries.
Each rooftop bore a metal crest covered in metal weaponry.
There was no whimsy here. Just function, order, and quiet control.
People moved through the streets with purpose, unlike the joyous village we had come from.
No one strolled, no one lingered. Men and women in simple clothes and armor milled about, some carrying weapons on their backs or hauling baskets filled with stone or timber.
Even the children we passed moved like soldiers-in-training, balancing heavy buckets of God knows what in their already lightly muscled arms.
Carl-Two leaned closer to me. “Do you think they…do pushups for fun?”
“I think they do pushups in their sleep,” I whispered back.
Tarran was quiet beside me, eyes scanning everything, taking it all in. She didn’t look afraid or nervous—more so begrudgingly respectful of the silence here.
“This is very different from the village,” I said, not bothering to hide the disapproval in my voice.
“Very different,” Carl-One nodded. “Doesn’t seem like they throw many parties here.”
We turned down a long corridor of stone houses, not quite sure where we were supposed to go.
There was no sign of colors or personality—just the kingdom’s etched crest carved into nearly every surface.
It was like being inside a fortress where every brick had a purpose, set in stone for hundreds of generations.
As we walked, we passed what looked like an outdoor training arena, where five warriors sparred bare-handed inside a chalk ring.
Their blows were sharp and fast, their movements graceful but brutal.
A small crowd watched from stone benches, silent and expressionless save for the occasional grunt of approval.
Tarran paused beside me, watching for a beat. “This is what they value. Physical ability over all else. Losing yourself in emotion is seen as weakness.”
“….fun,” I said, after a moment of silence.
One of the fighters, a broad-shouldered woman with a scar down her cheek, looked up and locked eyes with me. I straightened immediately, not wanting to be judged for what I was sure was terrible posture.
Carl-Two coughed. “I think she could break me in half like a twig.”
“Oh, definitely yes,” Carl-One agreed, and I couldn’t help my snort. They both looked at me with wide blue eyes and a hint of judgement.
We continued on, past a forge that glowed with heat, where two blacksmiths hammered in tandem with the precision of a steady heartbeat. The clang of metal rang out in perfect rhythm, as mesmerizing as it was deafening.
Eventually, we came to a courtyard filled with stone pillars, each bearing the engraved names of past champions. Some names shimmered faintly, like they had been freshly etched, while others had been worn by time, barely legible.
“They keep track of everyone who’s completed a challenge?” I asked. It wasn’t just sky girls; it couldn’t have been—there were at least a few hundred names, many of them distinctly male.
Tarran nodded. “And everyone who failed.”
I swallowed hard. “Cool. No pressure.”
It was there, as we studied the silent tribute, that someone finally approached us.
A young man, barely older than me, but with a posture so rigid, it could have been sculpted, strode up to our group. He wore the same uniform as the others, a deep crimson tunic over leather armor, a sword strapped across his back that look like it weighed more than both Carls combined.
“You’re the one who fell from the sky?” he asked, tone clipped and formal. His dark eyes flicked over me, not unking, but measuring. Calculating. “You’re very short,” he added, and it took everything in me not to be rude. Why did these people continuously feel the need to tell me that?
“I guess that’s me,” I snapped. “Liss.”
He didn’t blink. “The king was informed of your arrival the moment you crossed Valor’s threshold. He’s expecting you.”
“Of course he is,” I muttered. “Magic door tripwires, why not?”
He clearly didn’t hear me. “My name is Kellis. I’ve been assigned to escort you to the king. You’ll be given a place to rest and food for the duration of your stay with us.”
“Will I also be given pillows and an emotional support sword?”
Kellis raised an eyebrow, but if he was amused, he didn’t show it. His eyes raked over the rest of our group, pausing on Tarran for a beat before he turned back around. “Follow me.”
We followed him deeper into the city, and as we did, I caught Tarran stealing sideways glances as me. Quiet worry etched her face, along with something else, but whatever it was passed before I could ask.
Still, I walked closer to her, and as the kingdom walls rose higher around us, I pretended, for just a moment, that I was ready for whatever waited for me.
Kellis led us through a corridor of towering stone columns, each one wrapped in crimson silk banners etched with golden script.
The closer we got to the center, and presumably wherever this oh-so-mighty king lurked, the fancier everything became.
The valor kingdom’s inner sanctum wasn’t just intimidating – it was theatrical.
Which made sense, in a weird way. If a place like this was built around physical power, of course the person in charge would want to look the absolute mightiest.
It was always the loudest man in the room who had the least to say.
“Just a little warning,” Kellis said without turning his head. “The king has…quite a presence.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Massive muscles and emotionally constipated?”
Kellis coughed, and for a brief second, I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
“Sounds like every romance hero I’ve ever been tricked into reading,” I muttered.
Tarran didn’t say anything, just flicked her eyes to me and then away with a tight-lipped look.
We emerged into a circular chamber with a high, domed ceiling, a blood-red carpet running from the doorway to a raised dais. The space was lined with warriors in matching gleaming armor, all standing at attention. None blinked. None smiled. I wasn’t even sure they’d noticed us enter.
At the far end of the room, perched on a throne that looked like it had been carved from the remains of an unfortunate dragon, sat the King of Valor.
He fit my mental stereotype to the tee.
Enormous would be the word I’d use to describe him.
Muscles for days. Shoulder-length golden hair tied half-up like he couldn’t decide between being ready for battle or a shampoo commercial.
A jawline that could slice bread. His armor was etched with battle scars, and his cape looked like it weighed more than I did.
A certifiable god.
His eyes—icy blue, of course—fixed on me the moment I steeped in.
“Sky girl!” he boomed, voice deep enough to reverberate through the floor.
“That’s me,” I said, waving with one hand and stuffing the other into my pocket. His goal was intimidation, but I wasn’t going to give it to him. It would take more than being double my size to scare me. “Here against my will, to get a key.”
Tarran stiffened beside me. “Liss,” she warned, so quietly that I knew it was only intended for me to hear. A clear warning.
The king rose, descending the stairs with practiced steps. Every movement was deliberate. Controlled. Regal. Utterly ridiculous.
“I am King Damien of Valor,” he intoned, looking around the room with a prideful glint in his eyes. “You stand within my walls by ancient right, as my guest and my challenger. You dare challenge me for my key?”
“Technically, I’m collecting them like weird little magical Pokémon,” I said. “But sure. Let’s go with ‘challenge’.”
Carl-One frowned. “What’s a pokey-man?”
Damien didn’t react. He stood before me, easily a full two heads taller, his arms crossed in the way that screamed, I lift boulders for fun and never go to therapy.
I didn’t go to therapy either, but that was beside the point.
“Every king may set his own challenge. In Valor, we value strength, resolve, and honor in the face of pain. You will be tested accordingly.”
I nodded; this was all stuff I’d already heard and was pretending to be mentally prepared.
“In three days’ time, you will enter the arena,” he continued. “There, you will face a trial by combat. Who, or what, you will be fighting will be revealed to you when you step in. Prepare for anything and everything, because to lose this challenge is to lose your life.”
I blinked. “Wow. I can’t wait. So exciting.”
This time, one of the guards coughed, perhaps stifling a laugh. King Damien shot them a glare, and the room returned to filtered silence.
“You will be given access to our training facilities and may select one weapon to carry with you into the arena. You may bring your companions to assist in preparation, but hear me now sky girl: in the arena, you stand alone.”
“Oh, perfect. Wonderful!” I should shut up, I knew I should, but everything about this seemed ridiculous.
There was no way I was going to win a fight to the death with only three days to prepare.
If I died in this book, I was never going to see my family again.
Serena. The real world. I covered my anxiety with my bravado, lest I break apart right here in front of all these entirely fictional characters.
“You mock my kingdom,” Damien said slowly.
“No,” I said, meeting his gaze as evenly as I could. “I mock this entire book that I was pulled into against my will. None of this is truly real, and all of you are fucking crazy.”
There was a pause. A long, heavy pause.
Then, to my absolute shock, the king…chuckled.
It was a dry, rumbling sound and sounded alien coming from him. “You are not what I expected. You’re different from the others,” he said, his eyes flicking to Tarran, then the Carls, then back to me.
“Join the club,” I said. “We meet on Tuesdays.”
He turned, gesturing for Kellis. “Show her to her quarters and then take her to the armory to select a weapon. Then, the training yard. Three days. If she fails—she dies.”
He turned his back to us without another word and ascended his throne once more, as though the entire encounter had merely been a blip in his day.
Kellis led us from the hall silently, just assuming we would follow, though I caught him side-eying me with a puzzled expression before he schooled it away. The moment we stepped outside the chamber, I let out a long breath.
“Well,” I said, “he certainly lives up to the part.”
“You shouldn’t provoke him,” Tarran said, looking over me with something like concern softening her brow. “It isn’t wise.”
“Why not?” I argued, a spark of annoyance lighting within me. “If I’m going to get nearly killed in three days, I might as well make it entertaining.”
Carl-Two patted my shoulder. “We believe in you, even if you’re a bit…spicy.”
“Thanks,” I said. “That’s the nicest way I’ve ever been called a liability.”
“You’re very welcome,” Carl-Two replied with a serene smile. I couldn’t help but smile at the guy. The Carls were entirely ridiculous, but I couldn’t help but feel a soft spot for them in my heart.