A breath.
Then Beren's voice rang out — sharp, final.
"Team Thirty-Two… advances."
The sigils dimmed. The crowd didn't cheer — not in the usual way. No roars. Just a heavy, rolling wave of stunned noise, like thunder cracking beneath stone.
Salem turned from the arena floor, blade still dark with blood, and walked back to me. Calm. Silent. Her cloak dragged behind her like smoke. The shadows still clung to her skin like they didn't want to let go.
She passed me and stood at my side again.
Like she never left it.
I stood slowly, staff in hand, and turned toward the terrace without a word.
Tovin followed a few steps behind, shaken quiet. His footsteps echoed louder than usual, like the sand itself was holding its breath.
No one stopped us.
The gates at the far side of the pit opened with a groan of old stone and heavier magic. We walked the corridor back up — sigils glowing faintly along the walls, sensing mana and movement, but not resisting. Not now.
The crowd above never fully recovered from the silence.
Their voices fell like rain. Low. Uncertain.
"She's too young—"
"She's not just a girl, did you see what followed her—?"
"That was a Rank One. Broken like a twig."
"Who is she?"
When we reached the fighters' terrace, the air changed again — quieter here, but thicker too. Fighters stood or leaned along the rails, those who'd passed already. Watching. Re-evaluating.
Kate spotted me first.
"Annabel!"
She jogged over, half-laughing, eyes wide and full of disbelief.
"Damn," she said. "Okay. You weren't exaggerating. She's not just scary — she's… something else."
"Oh,I know that and on top of that she's all mine," I said smiling.
Kate stared at me for a second, then gave a breathless grin. "Yeah. We all saw."
Tovin sat down hard on the bench near the edge, like he'd only just remembered he had legs. Still stunned, still breathing it out.
Salem stood quiet beside me. Blade gone now, tucked back into the folds of shadow. Her breathing was normal. Her body steady.
But I felt the tension in her mana. Just enough to notice.
We walked toward the railing overlooking the arena floor — where the sky burned brighter and the shadow of the arena wall cut clean angles in the dust.
I stopped there.
Watching.
Waiting.
At the far end of the terrace, Rōko leaned against a pillar. Arms crossed. Her gaze didn't waver. Not once.
Her mana hummed low — cool and even — but not indifferent.
She understood.
And then—
Salem stepped closer. Quiet. She slipped behind me, one arm slowly wrapping around my waist, her chin resting lightly against my shoulder.
"I should've ended it faster," she murmured.
Her voice was soft — raw in the way only she ever let me hear.
"I got careless."
I reached up and touched her hand.
"No," I said. "You showed them exactly what they needed to see."
Below us, the crowd kept talking.
But up here, only the fighters stood.
And none of them were speaking anymore.
The crowd kept murmuring, but it never rose to shouting. Whatever storm had just passed through — they were still caught in it.
We didn't speak either. Not right away.
I stood still at the terrace rail, Salem at my back. Her presence wrapped me — not protective, not possessive. Just there. Unmoving. Like she'd anchored herself again.
Behind us, I could feel Tovin — his mana a soft, trembling shimmer — still seated, but steadier now. Breathing slower. Kate's presence was louder, brighter, but not aggressive. Her mana sparked with movement, with thought. Quillon was beside her, quieter, but watching everything. Watching us.
I turned slowly, guiding myself back with steps I counted and pressure I traced in the air. Salem followed behind, never more than a half step away.
Kate pointed out a bench. "We're claiming this one," she said. "No one else is brave enough to sit near you two."
I arched a brow under the blindfold as I took my seat beside Tovin. "You say that like we're scary."
Kate grinned. "You are scary. But I like that about you."
Salem didn't sit. She remained standing behind me, fingers brushing lightly against my shoulder — then trailing downward, slow and deliberate. The edge of her nails dragged across my back, a careful pressure through the fabric. She traced patterns I didn't recognize. Not symbols. Just something felt. Familiar. Possessive in the way only she knew how to be — soft but unmistakable.
Her presence was a current across my skin.
Not many things could ground me after a fight. But this — her — always could.
Quillon leaned over the bracket sheet, freshly drawn on a tall standing sigil near the center of the terrace. I could feel the magic thrumming from it — fresh, just shaped, still humming from the heat of being carved.
"Matches are up," he said. "We've got an hour."
I tilted my head toward the board. I couldn't see it. But I didn't need to.
"What's the path?" I asked.
Kate answered first. "You're in the second half now. Two more wins and you'll hit the semi."
"And you?"
"First half bracket," she said. "Two wins away from Rōko."
That made the air shift.
I could feel it in the sudden stillness of the group. In the small way Salem's tracing paused, then resumed — slightly slower, as if listening.
Rōko's name still carried weight. Still felt like steel — not just her body, but the way she moved. The way she waited.
"She's the wall," Quillon muttered.
"Yeah," Kate agreed. "But walls crack."
"Only if you hit them hard enough," Tovin added.
I smiled faintly, turning toward Kate. "Will you?"
Kate exhaled. "Two more fights first. One at a time. But yeah — if I'm there, I'm not folding."
"Shes faster than you and she has range.
You'll have to take her mana head-on."
"I'm not you, Annabel. I don't have Salem."
I felt Salem's mana respond subtly, her shadow curling faintly beneath my seat, drawn outward like smoke catching breath.
"No," I said softly. "You have you. And I've seen what that's worth."
Kate didn't reply at first. But I felt the shape of her mana shift — just slightly. Lighter. Conflicted, maybe. Or proud. Or both.
"What about you?" she asked. "You planning to let her do all the fighting again?"
"She asks permission," I said. "I'd be stupid to say no."
A beat of silence.
"Fair."
We stayed there, gathered around that long wooden bench, the bracket pulsing just beyond us like a heartbeat. I let my awareness expand — feeling each ripple of mana nearby. Nervous fighters. Some quietly sobbing. Some still trembling. One vomiting just out of view. The silence after a culling always felt like this.
But we weren't afraid.
We were waiting.
"One hour," Quillon said quietly.
"One more breath," I murmured.
Salem leaned in again, soft against my back.
And her nails kept tracing.
The world faded at the edges.
The warmth of the terrace dulled. Somewhere above, the sigils buzzed faintly — mana still cracking through the air as new matches flared and burned out again. Quillon was still sitting near the bracket, sharpening his focus. Tovin said something half-laughed and then coughed. Kate chuckled at it — distant but there.
Their voices melted.
I leaned sideways — barely awake, body moving on instinct — and felt Salem shift to catch me. One arm wrapped around my waist, the other settling gently across my middle. Her lap was soft. I could feel her muscles shake ever so slightly. She might not think it, but i did.
It was safe.
I let my head fall there.
Her breath caught — only slightly. Just enough for me to feel the change. Not in sound.
In mana.
Salem had learned to keep hers still around others. But with me? Even now — mostly asleep — I could feel the shiver through it. Tight, confused. Not fear. Not really.
She didn't know what this was.
But she didn't want it to end.
I smiled against her leg, just faintly. My fingers curled into the edge of her cloak as the dark began to pull me under.
Warm… safe… quiet…
"Salem," Kate said.
It took effort to stay halfway here. Her voice cut the quiet like a stone in still water.
"Can I ask you something?"
A pause.
Then Salem's low hum — not quite a yes, not quite a no.
"I mean this seriously," Kate said. "Don't get weird."
Another pause.
I could feel Salem's mana curl. Just a little tighter.
"…Do you love her?"
The bench shifted as Salem's body stiffened slightly beneath me. But her arms never moved.
"I don't know what that means."
Kate huffed. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
Another beat. Wind across the terrace. A sigil burst like a flare somewhere behind the arena wall.
Kate lowered her voice. "You look at her like she's gravity. Like she's the only thing holding you up."
A long pause.
Then:
"She was kind to me," Salem said softly. "And didn't ask me to be different."
"Kindness is dangerous when you've never had it before."
"I know that."
More silence.
I felt Salem's fingers curl faintly — not tighter, not painful. Just there. Real.
"But it's hers," she whispered. "So I want it. Even if I don't understand it yet."
Kate didn't speak for a long time.
Then I heard her shift — standing again.
"Just don't forget she's real," Kate murmured. "Not a symbol. Not a promise. She's Annabel. And she's already given too much."
Salem's voice didn't rise.
"I remember everything she gives me."
Footsteps moved away. Quillon's voice called out distantly — clipped, alert.
Their match.
I didn't lift my head.
Didn't open my eyes.
Didn't need to.
Salem's breath brushed warm along the side of my jaw. I felt the whisper of her lips — not a kiss. Just near enough to ask a question she hadn't figured out how to shape yet.
I exhaled.
And slept.
-
The first thing I felt was the bench beneath me — wood worn soft by decades of fighters waiting.
The second was Salem.
Her presence hovered behind me, thick like velvet. A pulse of familiar mana resting gently against the small of my back, curling across my shoulders, cool and steady like a shadow that had never left.
My head was tipped slightly forward, chin tucked, and—
Wait.
I straightened slowly. My muscles ached just enough to remind me I hadn't moved in a while.
The terrace.
The arena.
The hourglass sigil must've emptied by now.
"How long was I—?"
"Most of it," Salem murmured.
I tilted my face toward her voice, brow faintly furrowing beneath the blindfold. "Wait. The matches?"
"Won. Both," she said simply.
"Both?" I repeated. "Salem—" I turned slightly, reaching out with one hand, catching the edge of her sleeve and tugging gently. "You let me sleep through two rounds?"
A pause.
"I did."
"Is that even allowed?"
Another pause — longer this time. Then: "They didn't stop me."
That should've made me laugh. Instead, I felt the weird flutter of it in my chest — half confusion, half awe. What does that even look like from the outside?
Kate groaned from the other end of the bench.
"You didn't even twitch when that second guy screamed," she said. "And he screamed, Annabel. I thought someone hit him with a cursed bolt."
"I was asleep!"
"Exactly! You controlled a Rank One demon in a sanctioned match while unconscious. That's some ancient warlock-level insanity."
"She didn't control me," Salem said, quiet as a shadow. "She gave me her permission to act on stuff when i deem it absolutely necessary."
"That's somehow worse," Quillon muttered.
Tovin's voice joined in. "People are talking. They think she doesn't even need to be awake anymore. Just her existence is enough for Salem to act."
"They're kind of right," Kate said, sounding both impressed and slightly unnerved. "You should've seen the crowd. One guy actually ran. Didn't even make it to casting."
"She didn't even draw her blade at first," Quillon added. "Just walked at them. Like it was a chore."
"I didn't want to miss the matches," I mumbled. "What if something had gone wrong?"
Kate snorted. "Nothing went wrong. You just missed Rōko tearing someone's arm off with her stupid chain and sickle. That was round three. Brutal. I'm still hearing the sound of it."
My head turned instinctively toward her voice. "Wait. Rōko did what?"
"Chain around the wrist, yank, and then a twist. Whole thing popped like pulled fruit," Quillon said flatly. "The guy's partner surrendered before the medics even hit the sand."
I rubbed the side of my face. "How did that not wake me?"
"The crowd roared," Kate said. "Like coliseum-roared. We all thought you'd stir. But no — you just shifted and got more comfortable."
Tovin gave a breathless laugh. "She had you tucked into her lap like a pet."
Kate shot Salem a glance — then looked again, slower.
"You just… let her sleep," she said. "Didn't even hesitate. Stepped onto the field like she had."
"She did," I said softly. "That's the bond."
Kate didn't answer right away. But I could feel her mana twist — subtle and thoughtful, pulled taut like someone realizing they're standing in the shadow of something far deeper than they expected.
Across the terrace, the gates creaked open again.
"Next up," Quillon said, already pushing off the bench. "Us."
The name didn't need saying. I felt it ripple in the stillness anyway.
Rōko.
Kate's mana flared briefly — not fear, exactly, but a bracing tension. Like a soldier checking her armor before the charge.
"You'll do fine," I said, brushing my mana gently against hers.
"She's something else, Annabel," Kate said. "That chain of hers moves like it thinks. She caught a guy's staff out of midair and broke it before it hit the ground."
"Then break her first," I said.
Kate gave a short breath, half a laugh. "If we lose—?"
"I'll make sure she doesn't walk after the finals."
Kate grinned. "You're terrifying."
"I try."
As they moved toward the gate, I leaned back again, breathing out softly. The terrace air was warm against my skin, but Salem's presence was cooler — grounding. Unshakable.
"I still can't believe you let me nap through a tournament."
"I did," she said again, voice closer this time. "You were warm."