The arena remained utterly silent, the echoes of my story lingering in the air long after the last word was spoken. The scorched earth, the broken stones, the very air itself seemed to hold its breath, caught in the grip of a story that was too raw, too real for this world of magic and political games. Every pair of eyes—Layla's sharp violet gaze, now softened with a confusing pity; Noora's calculating crimson stare, now wide with a dawning, horrified understanding; Sasha's disbelieving ones, shimmering with unshed tears—were locked onto me. But what shocked them most wasn't my words.
It was the single, traitorous tear that glistened in my shadowed eyes before I could stop it.
"A-are... you fine?" Layla asked, her usual icy composure cracking for the first time, her voice a hesitant whisper that was completely out of character.
