The second round began with a chilling silence, the contestants moving into position as the crowd fell into an expectant hush. The air seemed to hum with the buildup of magic, a palpable tension that was almost suffocating. The rules were simple: magic could now be used, but only for defense—shields, barriers, and counterspells. No offensive magic. The goal was to outlast and outmaneuver each other, not through brute strength, but through the ability to protect oneself and anticipate the movements of others.

Drakaris stood at the ready, his eyes glowing faintly as he surveyed the field. His body was poised, his every muscle a coiled spring. Despite the tension, there was a calm in his demeanor—a confidence that only came from years of experience. He was the first to make a move.

The horn sounded, and the arena erupted into a frenzy of magic. Waves of energy crashed against one another as contestants immediately called up their defenses. The towering fae with glowing red eyes summoned a massive wall of flame that shot up from the ground, a fiery barrier meant to incinerate anything that came too close. The female with the dual daggers conjured a quicksilver shield around herself, the magic shifting and rippling like liquid metal as she darted to the side, weaving between the other competitors.

Drakaris, however, was unfazed. He raised his hand, and shadows rippled around him, thick and dark, forming a barrier of solid shadow. It was unlike anything I’d seen before—impenetrable, as though the very essence of darkness had solidified into a wall. The fire from his opponent’s wall splashed harmlessly against it, fizzling out like rain against an iron roof.

His eyes flicked toward me for the briefest moment, a challenge in them, before he turned back to the others.

The brute with the spiked mace, clearly struggling to keep up with the speed of the more agile competitors, roared in frustration. He swung his mace with a thunderous crack, sending a shockwave of force through the arena. The wave of power hit the shield of the female with the daggers, shaking her defenses, but she maintained control, bending the shield like liquid to absorb the impact.

Drakaris’s next move was swift. He summoned a pulse of shadow magic from his outstretched hand—no more than a flick of his fingers—and sent it hurtling toward the brute. The magic was a rush of energy, crackling with dark power, and it collided with the brute’s magical barrier, causing a massive explosion of light and sound. The brute staggered back, his shield flickering before it shattered. He stumbled to his knees, barely managing to catch himself.

The crowd roared, the tension building as more contestants fell or were incapacitated by their defensive spells. It was clear that this round was not about brute strength; it was about finesse, about timing, and about knowing when to hold back and when to strike. Drakaris was playing the game to perfection, his movements almost too quick to follow.

Round 3 was the most anticipated, the final test of strength, wit, and raw magical power. The atmosphere in the arena was charged and electric as the remaining contestants, including Drakaris, prepared for the ultimate battle. Gone were the defensive barriers and calculated counters of the previous rounds. This time, magic was free, unrestrained, and brutal. It was a battle royale—every fae for themselves, with only one victor allowed to walk away unscathed.

The horn sounded sharp and deafening, signaling the start of the final round. The moment it echoed through the arena, the air shimmered with the weight of conjured energy, and a wave of magic swept across the battlefield. The crowd fell silent, waiting for the first explosion of power to break the stillness.

Drakaris stood at the center, his eyes glowing brightly as he surveyed the field. The remaining contestants circled him, all of them calculating, waiting for the right moment to strike. The fae with the glowing red eyes, the one with the fiery wall in the second round, was the first to move.

Without warning, she extended her hands toward the sky, summoning a torrent of fire that arced in the air like a massive serpent. It shot toward Drakaris with blinding speed, the flames crackling as they writhed through the air. She clearly intended to overwhelm him, but Drakaris was faster.

He raised his hand, and the shadows responded to his call. The ground beneath him cracked open, and dark tendrils of magic shot upward, intertwining with the fire as it collided with the ground. The two forces clashed with a deafening roar, creating a massive explosion of light and shadow that sent shockwaves through the arena.

Drakaris stood unshaken, his stance firm as the flames and shadows danced around him. The red-eyed fae was momentarily distracted, her focus on maintaining her fiery barrage, but Drakaris wasn’t waiting. He stepped forward, his movements fluid, and summoned a wave of shadow magic from his palm. The dark energy rippled outward, crashing into the woman’s fire like a tidal wave.

The flames sputtered and died under the pressure of the magic, the woman’s barrier faltering. She barely managed to create a shield in time, but it buckled under the weight of Drakaris’s spell. She was knocked back, and the arena floor cracked beneath her, sending a spray of dirt and stone into the air. She struggled to regain her footing, but Drakaris didn’t give her the chance.

In a flash of movement, he was upon her. His hand, still crackling with dark magic, reached down toward her. But before he could strike the final blow, the woman summoned one last burst of flame in a desperate attempt to protect herself. It was a brief but powerful flare of energy, enough to knock Drakaris back a few paces.

For a moment, there was a brief standstill. The crowd watched in suspense, and the air seemed thick with anticipation. But the woman, clearly spent from the effort, staggered to one knee, her fiery magic exhausted. She raised her hands weakly, signaling her surrender.

Drakaris nodded, his face impassive as he stepped away. “You fought well,” he said coolly. And with that, she was removed from the field, her form fading as she was transported to safety.

The next opponent to make a move was the fae with the twin daggers. She was fast—faster than most, with a cunning edge to her movements that made her a dangerous adversary. She darted around the battlefield with remarkable speed, her silver blades flashing in the air as she summoned a series of offensive spells. Her magic was swift and sharp, designed for precision, for cutting down her enemies before they even knew what hit them.

She went straight for Drakaris, attempting to outmaneuver him with a series of quick strikes, her magic flashing like lightning with every move. Drakaris was not caught off guard, though. His movements were smooth, almost predatory, as he avoided each of her strikes, his eyes tracking her every movement.

He raised his hand, and a massive wall of shadow surged upward, blocking her magic as it shot toward him. The daggers collided with the dark energy, but they couldn’t penetrate the barrier.

“Impressive,” Drakaris murmured, watching her carefully.

But the fae with the daggers wasn’t done yet. She leapt high into the air, flipping backward as she summoned a burst of magic to propel herself forward with the speed of a striking viper. She was aiming for Drakaris’s chest, her daggers poised to strike.

But he was already ready.

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a vortex of dark energy, and in an instant, the fae was engulfed by the swirling shadows. Her blades were rendered useless as she was pulled into the storm of darkness, spinning helplessly within the vortex. Drakaris’s magic crushed her movements, leaving her powerless to escape. Within moments, she fell to the ground, defeated and breathless.

Another opponent is down. But Drakaris’s focus never wavered.

The remaining contestant, the brute with the spiked mace, growled in frustration as he rushed forward. His massive form barreled toward Drakaris; his mace raised high. With every step, the ground beneath him cracked and buckled under the force of his enormous frame.

Drakaris didn’t flinch.

The brute swung the mace down with terrifying strength, but Drakaris simply sidestepped, moving with the grace of someone who had studied battle for centuries. He raised his hand, and a wall of shadow appeared before him, absorbing the brute’s attack. The force of the mace slammed into the dark barrier, sending a wave of power through the arena.

But Drakaris didn’t stop there. He quickly retaliated, his dark energy swirling around him as he conjured a blast of magic that sent the brute staggering backward. His mace flew from his hands, and the brute collapsed to his knees, unable to summon the strength to continue.

Drakaris approached him slowly, his eyes glowing with dark power. He didn’t need to say a word—the message was clear. The brute was finished.

With that, the final contestant was eliminated, and the arena erupted into applause. The third round was over, and Drakaris stood tall, victorious. His breathing was steady, his movements precise, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

The battle had been a spectacle, but it was clear who the winner was. And with that, the fate of Ciara’s marriage had been sealed—for better or worse.

But as Drakaris raised his arms in victory, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The actual game was just starting.

I felt the pressure mounting, the weight of the moment settling heavily on my shoulders. I had been watching the brutal display unfold, my heart racing with each strike, each use of magic. But through it all, my mind was fixed on the one thing that hadn’t changed since I arrived in this dark realm: I had agreed to a bond, a union with someone who played by rules far darker and more dangerous than I could have ever anticipated.

Drakaris lowered his arms, and the crowd began to cheer, but I couldn’t bring myself to join them. The truth was, I was terrified. Terrified of what came next, of the marriage, of their sheer savagery.

Drakaris’s gaze swept over me, his expression unreadable. Sylvain grabbed my hand and transported us to the center of the bloody arena. He stood directly in front of me. He took a step toward me, closing what little space there was, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze around us. The crowd’s cheers faded into an almost deafening silence, leaving only the sound of my heart pounding in my chest.

“You’re still standing, Little Light,” Drakaris said, his voice low and smooth, a hint of something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. “Impressive. Tell me, do you fear what comes next?”

I swallowed, trying to push down the nerves that threatened to overwhelm me. The truth was, I didn’t know if I was ready for what this realm and this marriage would bring. But I wasn’t going to back down. Not now. Not after everything I’d sacrificed to get here.

“Yes,” I said, my voice somehow sounding much steadier than I felt. “But I’m not naïve. I know you won’t hurt me. I know what you expect, Drakaris. I know what this means. And I’m not afraid to face whatever comes next. But I’ll make one thing clear—I won’t be a pawn. Not now, or ever again.”

Drakaris chuckled, the sound low and dark, like the rumble of distant thunder. “You’re more than a pawn, Little Light. You’re my future daughter-in-law. You’ll have a place in my court, though I doubt you’ll ever accept that fully.”

As Drakaris' words sank in, a chill ran down my spine. Daughter-by-law? My mind reeled at the revelation, struggling to comprehend the twist of fate that awaited me. I had prepared myself to marry the formidable Drakaris.

The realization sparked a whirlwind of emotions within me. How could this be? I had braced myself to stand by Drakaris' side, to navigate the treacherous waters of his world with him as my guide. But now, faced with the prospect of marrying his son, I found myself adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Drakaris observed my stunned expression with an inscrutable gaze as if he relished the shock he had caused. The dark energy that surrounded him seemed to pulse with an ominous intensity, casting shadows across the arena and shrouding us from the rest of the world.

The crowd began to thin, and many people filed out as the event came to an end. But Drakaris didn’t move, and his eyes never left mine.

“Get some rest,” he said, pulling back with a final glance. “Tomorrow, we begin preparing for what comes after the gauntlet. And trust me, Little Light, there’s still much you need to learn.”

I watched him walk away, his shadow stretching long across the arena floor, leaving me standing there, alone, with the weight of everything pressing in on me.