Logic screamed at him to get the hell out of the track. But he didn’t.

His legs refused to sidestep, focused on the finishing line with a one-track mind.

Tyler bounded forward, and let the dragon have him, plunging headlong into the flaming jaws, skin screaming from the searing hotness that raked every inch, every pore. In that hell, he lost himself – couldn’t feel his legs, his breathing, nor the rush of blood in his veins.

In nary a few seconds, it was over – he exited the bowels of the flaming beast, finishing his race where the tempestuous trail of Volcan stones ended.

I made it!

Relief washed over him like rain after the long, dry season.

His muscles begged for respite. Skin, thirsted for the sweet relief of cold water.

He should head for the resting area, but he could no longer move.

His legs gave way, staggering in an ungainly manner before crashing to his knees, palms bracing the rough, dusty earth.

He kissed the sun-baked dirt between his heavy pants. Tears mingled with sweat, rolled down his cheeks and watered the ground. Absorbed with how he came out of the race alive, he did not notice several runners bounding pass him, finishing the race after him, though they were initially ahead.

Nor did he notice the crowd above, took up chanting his name in mad fervor.

What he did notice, was a pair of long, lean legs that came to stand before him.

Tyler swept his gaze upwards, past those long, snugly fitted legs, to a loose over-shirt fallen over firm, astute shoulders.

“Kovan,” Tyler barely rasped breathily, looking in his owner’s glittering green eyes.

A smile blossomed above his strong jaw.

“You did well, for your debut.”

Owner looked genuinely pleased. “I’m glad you are unharmed.”

Tyler ought to be disgusted if Kovan meant that he was relieved he still had his money making hound. However, he couldn’t find the older man’s usual aloof, calculating gaze.

His owner’s emerald eyes shone with warmth, prompting him to believe he was sincere.

Owner held out a hand to him, bowing over slightly, allowing his sleek, blond ponytail to slip past his broad shoulders.

Tyler took Kovan’s hand and allowed him to pull him up without a fuss – he was too exhausted to oppose at every little thing, like he normally would.

“No energy to be testy today?” a smirk suddenly teased the corners of Kovan’s lips.

Tyler scowled, maroon eyes flashing at the taller man, but remained pliant until he regained his energy. He followed in step behind Kovan, fighting to keep from faltering on jelly legs.

His strength suddenly returned when he noticed the resting pavilion drew near. He quickened his pace, eager to enjoy the cooling mist of Serpents’ breath.

The other Torches were already on the benches within the spacious pavilion, with medic attendants checking their vitals.

A medic approached him as well, biding him to be seated whilst offering a towel and a big flask. Tyler took it gratefully, gulping down the cool water like a man lost in the desert without drinks for days. As he drank hastily, water trickled down from the corners of his mouth, joining the sweaty beads travelling down his bare torso and soaking the waistband of his pants.

For reasons beyond him, Kovan undertook the task to wipe him down with the small towel. Tyler jolted at first, surprised by the action, but didn’t contest, since he was too occupied with drowning himself in his drink.

Meanwhile, the medic pressed a Link-ore over the silver, inked markings on his right forearm, syncing to the embed ports on his skin. His vitals were retrieved, squiggly lines and dots showing up in a sphere of light that beamed outwards, studied by the focused medic and Kovan, who remained standing behind them.

Whilst the other man worked, Tyler looked around and observed the other contenders. Earlier on, he had been too nervous to think about anything else, or size up his opponents. Now, he noticed they were fairly young, around his age of twenty.

On hindsight, they ought to be. For it was between this age band that the vitality of youth hit the peak finesse of manhood.

He itched to exchange words with them, suddenly relieved there were others who shared in his plight.

He wasn’t the only to suffer this terrible, fearful fate.

He no longer, had to feel so alone.

If only he could find an opportune moment; when the Torches’ owners were not watching over their shoulders with beady, forbidding eyes like hawks…

Meeting the eyes of the other lads, he smiled, however, his warm gesture was not returned. Almost all, gave him sour looks. Only one or two, attempted a smile – that was if, he could consider a tiny twitch at the corners of their lips as one. He was taken back, unsure if he had offended them without his realizing.

No way to ask or speak to them at the moment, he pushed aside the matter.

Instead, he glanced around the structural finishing of their pavilion, in wonder. The rich architecture stood out against the barren desert that stretched for miles.

It was a raised, hexagon platform of agate tiles in gradients of ivory and rose.

At the center, stood a cluster of bare, Sycamore trees, their outer barks ashen to spotted white-grey, already dead. However, the trunks were preserved in varnish, the tell-tale sign coming from the glossy sheen reflecting the noon rays. So the Sycamores continued to stand solidly, complimenting the flooring in tasteful, naturalistic aesthetics.

Serpant’s Breath – thick, leafy vines creeped around the trunks and wide, intersecting branches of the Sycamores. They formed a thick crown, with their veins and foliage fat and swollen, having soaked up an excess of water – likely from an underground runnel.

To prevent venous rupture, the creeper plant released tiny droplets of water from their porous membranes, making it look like they were exhaling misty air – hence their name.

The cool relief was welcoming, soothing his heated, flushed skin.

“Are you feeling better?” Kovan’s words dropped from overhead at the same time that the medic withdrew.

Tyler nodded, feeling tension ebb away from his body whilst he waited for the medics to be done checking up the last of the contenders.

The rest on the other hand, carried stressed looks. Even their owners threw him hostile glares, sending an uneasy chill riding down his back.

Tyler wondered if it was merely his imagination, and knew Kovan was likely able to enlighten him on whatever he had yet to catch on. However, as he wanted to stay away from conversing with Kovan as much as possible, his stubbornness kept him from asking.

After an uncomfortable wait bearing icy stares, the Torches and their owners were ushered atop the Lily – another floating platform that levitated to the same level as the spectators.

“Keep a straight face,” came Kovan’s discreet whisper in between the commentator’s fervent speech, breath dusting the tips of his ears.

Tyler frowned, inwardly questioning his meaning.

It was only after the results were announced, that Tyler finally realized the reason for the unhappy faces on the other Torches and their owners.

He shot from tenth place to forth place, in that shot span of time taken to sprint through the fiery beast. He was surprised himself, not noticing his sudden burst of speed. Because of his position, his earnings would surely double for this race.

His heart skipped whilst his mind spun with the numbers. However, as with Kovan’s heed, he dared not break into a smile.

Despite the hot air swathing them, and the glare of the sun above their heads, he could feel intense chill nipping his sides. It turned him cold, keeping his mouth frozen in a neutral position. He knew he would piss off the others more, if they saw him rejoicing.