Chapter 8
All my life, choices had been made for me—by my guardians, my leaders, or the unforgiving hand of fate.
Big or small, significant or trivial, I had rarely—rarely—been granted the freedom to make my own decisions.
Every card I was dealt felt deliberately chosen, leaving me little choice in my next move.
And every time I fought to take control, to shuffle a new deck and start a different game on my terms, something—or someone—inevitably dragged me back into the rigged game I was desperate to escape.
I was always a pawn in someone else’s game—never the one holding the pieces.
And Rhodes making a deal with my sister on my behalf regarding my next move really, really pissed me the fuck off.
The hum of the crowd slowly unmuted in my ears, pulling me back to the present.
“Let’s go then,” I declared, snapping myself out of my stupor.
Fallon smirked as she popped her knuckles and stretched her arms.
“What? Scarlet, no,” Rhodes said, incredulous, his brows furrowed.
I turned to face him, straightening my shoulders as I met his stormy gaze. “You made the deal for me. Can’t live with it now? That’s on you, not me,” I reproached.
The crowd hollered. Rhodes leaned in close, his voice low and urgent, meant only for me. “Elements aren’t allowed in this ring. She’s incredibly skilled. You’ve had one day of training. Please don’t.” His tone wavered, almost pleading.
I met his gaze, jaw tight. “Please don’t make decisions for me, Wylder.”
The words struck a nerve—good. His lashes fluttered, but his composure held. Slowly, he stepped back, the roar of the crowd drowning out his voice. Yet I read his lips: Remember what I taught you.
The whirlwind of those few days came rushing back.
Davis, Shayde, and I had stumbled upon Tyrian scouts hidden deep within a mountain cavern during our War Campaign.
What was supposed to be a controlled exercise—testing our skills, elemental control, and teamwork—had devolved into something far more dangerous.
We were powerless, our connection to our elements severed. The primary survival skill taught at Mageia was gone. That first night, I had to rely solely on the basics Professor Lamport drilled into us to keep us warm. For a moment, we thought we could handle it.
We were dead wrong.
The scouts came at us fast and mercilessly. They tried to drag me away—spiriting me off to elements-know-where. Their grip was bruising, their cold eyes enough to make my blood run colder than the mountain air. Davis and I fought like hell, thrashing against their hold, but then there was Shayde.
He moved like a natural-born warrior, dismantling three enormous men with precision and skill that seemed otherworldly.
It wasn’t just strength—it was the combat training you’d expect from someone who’d grown up alongside the most elite fighters.
One moment, he was my sort-of-ex turned into a nonnegotiable teammate.
Next, he was a force of nature, beating the men who threatened to take me to a pulp.
And then the cavern collapsed.
Willingly, I allowed Rhodes to “kidnap” me the next day.
We traveled so deep into the mountains that I doubt the place even appears on any map.
The sunken peninsula or plateau—whatever it was—remained nameless in my mind, but it didn’t matter.
It was hidden, serene, and, most importantly, it felt like it was ours.
The day passed in a blur of training without my elements.
Rhodes pushed me harder than I had ever been pushed, focusing on self-defense moves tailored to my size.
And he didn’t take it easy on me—not once.
Every time I failed, he made me try again, pushing me to my limit.
He wouldn’t stop until I proved myself, and the only way to earn my daggers—the ones he’d crafted for me—was to disarm them from his sheaths after taking him down in each move.
The feeling of his body pressed against mine as I slid my daggers free, our breaths mingling…
No. I’m supposed to be pissed.
“Tell me something that will piss me off,” I said to Lakota.
“The Grim sabotaged the campaign.”
That’ll do it.
Rhodes hopped over the wooden rail, landing beside the tall man who was talking with Fallon. He leaned forward on the rail, his ankles crossed, with a determined look etched across his face. His eyes flicked between Fallon and me, his expression unreadable, while Rhodes’s was the complete opposite.
“Take. Her. Down,” Rhodes mouthed.
I turned and walked to the center of the ring, ignoring how much his words meant to me.
Fallon stood waiting, arms crossed, with an impatient smirk tugging at her lips.
The sun beat down relentlessly, but the cool air did little to soothe my heated skin.
Sweat dripped down my spine. My heart hammered in my chest.
Thunder roared overhead, and I looked up. Lakota’s massive form sliced through the clouds, his wings casting a fleeting shadow over the arena as he circled above.
He was threatening Fallon.
My sister stepped into my space. “No elements. I know Mageia coddles its cadets with no hand-to-hand combat, so I’ll take it easy on you,” she said, finishing with a wink before backing away into her stance.
Her arrogance was suffocating. She had the nerve to treat me like I was lesser when she had no idea what I’d been through, what I’d survived. I might not have been a trained fighter, but I wasn’t a quitter.
Muscle memory kicked in, and I slid into the stance Rhodes had drilled into me. Knees bent, body angled, fists up. I shoved aside the urge to crawl back into bed and clung to my simmering anger toward fate. For the first time, I had the chance to truly fight my biggest villain.
Myself.
It helped that the person in front of me was like looking in a mirror.
I lunged forward with a right hook, but Fallon blocked it effortlessly with her forearm, her smirk widening as if taunting me. We circled, a deadly dance, untold history crackling between us, begging for fuel. The crowd roared, but I tuned the noise out.
Fallon feinted left and struck right, her fist slamming into my shoulder before I could process her movement. I stumbled, barely catching myself before hitting the ground.
“Too slow,” Fallon taunted, weaving gracefully aside as I threw a sloppy punch. She dodged with ease and took advantage. My guard wasn’t up, and she moved too fast. Her foot hooked behind my ankle, sweeping me clean off my feet. I hit the dirt hard, the breath ripped from my lungs.
Lakota trilled in the sky.
Fallon leaned over me, her shadow blocking the sun. “Better muzzle your dragon before he fights your battles for you.”
Rage coursed through me as I scrambled to my feet, fists clenched. I lunged for her midsection, but she sidestepped again, catching my wrist mid-strike and twisting it behind my back in a sharp, practiced motion.
She leaned in close, her voice a smug whisper in my ear. “You’re sloppy and predictable. Try harder.”
“I thought you were supposed to be teaching me,” I growled through gritted teeth.
Her grip tightened, twisting my arm further, and I bit back a scream. “Lesson one, the most important one—don’t let your enemy knock you down.”
I jerked away, stumbling as she released me. My muscles screamed in protest, but I forced myself to focus. I swung again, a desperate uppercut that grazed her chin. It wasn’t much, but the satisfaction of seeing her stumble back lit a fire in my chest.
Fallon touched her jaw, her expression hardening from smug amusement to something darker. Her eyes narrowed, and before I could react, she spun into a roundhouse kick that sent me sprawling face-first into the dirt.
The crowd erupted in cheers and jeers. I thought I heard Rhodes yell my name, but the roaring in my ears drowned it out. My lungs burned as I inhaled dirt.
But I didn’t stay down. I wouldn’t.
I forced myself to my feet, wobbling unsteadily. Fallon stood there, arms crossed, her smirk as infuriating as ever.
“Seems to me you like being knocked down,” she said, her tone almost bored.
I wiped the dirt and blood from my lip, glaring at her. “Shut up.”
The crowd’s noise faded into the background as I charged her again, my anger overriding exhaustion. Fallon blocked every clumsy strike with infuriating ease, countering with precise hits that sent me stumbling back again and again.
She side-kicked my shin, and I staggered, but I refused to fall. Fallon bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, grinning like a toddler waiting for a new toy.
“What do you want from me?” I screamed, my voice thick with anguish. “You’re the one he chose to keep!”
Her bouncing stopped. Surprise flickered across her face before her eyes narrowed into slits. We circled each other in the ring, dancing around the truth between us.
“If you wanted to talk about Daddy,” Fallon said with a shrug, “all you had to do was say so. He was asking about you earlier.”
Without thinking, I lunged—slamming into her and knocking her to the ground. I poured everything I had into holding her down as she squirmed beneath me. My hands clamped just above her elbows, forcing her still.
Then I felt it. Beneath my right palm, the texture of her skin was different—familiar. My grip loosened as my eyes locked on the scar slashed across her muscle.
The same scar I gave myself.
Fallon took advantage of my distraction. In a flash, she flipped us—slamming me onto my back and pinning me to the dirt. I thrashed beneath her, teeth bared. The pressure of her weight burned into my limbs, hot enough to leave bruises by morning.
She leaned in close, whispering in my ear, “Jealous that he tucked me in at night and read me bedtime stories?”
My fire element roared through my veins, begging to be unleashed, while my air element itched to throw her off me. I fought them back, determined to prove I could fight without relying on my elements. I couldn’t move my arms or legs, but I could tilt my head.
I sank my teeth into her jaw, biting down as hard as I could.
Fallon jerked back, cursing as she pressed a hand to the spot I bit. I ignored the protest of my muscles, springing up instantly and getting back into fighting position.
The crowd’s cheers died.
Everything that came next was a blur. Fallon feinted left, then struck right with a palm to my chest. The force knocked me back a step, but I held my balance.
Before I could react, she swept her foot low, catching me off guard and knocking my legs out from under me. I hit the ground with a thud, gasping as I scrambled back to my feet.
She was already there, faster than I could blink. Her fist slammed into my gut, pain exploding through my core. I folded forward, but she caught my arm, twisting it behind my back and forcing me into the dirt.
“Oh, look—your favorite place. Face down in the dirt,” she said, pushing her knee into my spine to hold me down.
Her weight bore down on me, and for a moment, I thought I might lose my breath completely.
My muscles screamed in protest, but I didn’t stay there long.
I gritted my teeth and rolled, throwing her off of me.
I tried to spring to my feet, but Fallon was already there, twisting my arm behind me with a vicious yank.
I gasped, trying to twist away, but it was useless—she pulled me down again, this time slamming me into the dirt with a vicious knee to the chest. My breath was knocked out of me as I hit the ground hard, the impact sending a shockwave of pain up my spine.
I choked, rolling to my side to push myself up. But Fallon was relentless. She grabbed my collar and yanked me back into a headlock, locking my body against her with her arm tight around my throat.
“Am I wrong?” she hissed.
I drove my elbow back with all the force I could muster, catching her ribs. She grunted but didn’t release me. I squirmed, but she wrenched harder, forcing me down again. The crowd’s jeers faded until all I could focus on was the crushing pressure on my throat and the fire burning in my limbs.
“I don’t think you’re capable of being taught,” Fallon whispered, her breath hot in my ear. “You’re a pathetic waste of space.”
“Then why did you rescue me!”
Instead of answering, Fallon released me with a sharp twist, sending me sprawling face-first into the dirt. I didn’t stay down for long. Pushing onto all fours, my scraped hands shook as I tried to catch my breath.
She loomed above me.
“You’re good at getting back up,” she said. “But it’s not enough. You’re always going to be knocked right back down.”
This time, as I surged to my feet, she darted forward like a striking serpent.
Her foot hit my shin, the sharp pain forcing me to stumble back.
And then, without hesitation, she launched a roundhouse kick straight to my chest. The force knocked me off my feet and into the dirt again.
I felt the air leave my lungs, and for a brief moment, I stayed there, flat on my back, staring up at the sky above the arena.
I pushed myself to my elbows, my limbs shaking with exhaustion, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Fallon’s smirk was the last thing I saw before I crawled forward, ignoring every part of me that begged for rest.
She grabbed a fistful of my hair, ripping it from my scalp. The pain shot through me like wildfire, and I cried out in surprise. Fallon yanked my head back, holding me in that position as if savoring every moment, her face hovering inches above mine.
“I should’ve left you to rot in those iron shackles,” she sneered before she rammed her knee into my temple.
Then, everything went black.