SAGE
The evening air was cool, kissed with the faint scent of rain and pine. I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders as I wandered through the paved streets of the colony, each stone still faintly warm beneath my boots from the day's sun.
Lanterns hung from black iron posts, their soft orange glow spilling over the cobblestones, catching the wary faces of those who passed me.
They didn't say much—no one dared to anymore—but they looked. Always looked. Some bowed their heads, others stepped aside, giving me a wide berth as though I carried the plague.
A few, the bolder ones, gave a respectful nod, murmuring greetings like "Champion" or "Lady Sage." I neither corrected nor acknowledged them. Titles were meaningless when you were one fight away from either glory or death.
Tomorrow was the final match. The one that would decide everything. Darius versus Sage. Alpha's chosen versus the wild card. And I was expected to bleed for their entertainment again.
