I don’t know where Zagan went, but Nyx has been my personal tour guide since he disappeared. She’s been nothing but accommodating, dragging me all over this small town with an energy I can barely keep up with. Now, she’s taken me to the gladiator colosseum, claiming I’m lucky to witness the semi-finals first round.

Lucky? Ehh… if you call watching grown men puff up their chests only to get bodied in two minutes lucky, then sure. The first few matches are a disaster—a parade of weaklings, cowards, and loudmouths who go down faster than they can finish their boasts. Nyx keeps grumbling about how she doesn’t understand why they even try. I, on the other hand, do understand. I know exactly what it's like to pretend to be stronger than you are. Not that I’d admit that out loud.

We’re seated somewhere in the middle of the audience, a perfect spot—close enough to see the fights clearly but far enough to avoid any unfortunate splash zones. Nyx informs me that magic is forbidden inside the ring. These fights are purely physical. Now that catches my interest. I might not be the strongest, but I do enjoy watching good footwork and technique.

After three rounds of predictable brawls, the announcer speaks up.

“And now, our trump card match!”

Trump card? I turn to Nyx.

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” she starts, “that they will choose a random audience member for a friendly match. And if the chosen one doesn’t want to fight or is incapable of doing so, they must find a replacement—”

Before she can even finish her sentence, her name is called.

“Danica "Nyx" Aurellia Mavros, born of Romea now the Bleeding Hallows, daughter of Cassius the Blackened Blade, and warrior of the Crimson Fields—”

Oh. She's from the Bleeding Hallows?

Nyx exhales sharply but her eyes were twinkling with excitement, “Here we go.”

Versus…

Enter the guy three times her size, wielding a chained metal ball covered in spikes. Fantastic.

Nyx, however, doesn’t hesitate. She’s already leaping into the arena, dual daggers in hand. The girl looks equal parts excited and nervous, her sweat glistening under the colosseum torches.

The match begins. Nyx moves like a shadow, dodging every single swing with such grace that it looks like she’s dancing. The man’s weapon is slow, heavy, and he can't seem to land a hit. The crowd starts murmuring, impressed by Nyx’s agility.

But then—

CRACK.

One misstep. The metal ball slams into her arm, sending her sprawling onto the ground.

“HA! You’re nothing but a rat scurrying for scraps,” the brute bellows, grinning as if the fight is already over.

Nyx spits out blood, her smile defiant. “Not today, big guy.”

The fight escalates. It’s no longer a friendly match—it’s brutal. Every strike, every hit feels personal. I watch, horrified, as the man’s attacks become relentless. Nyx is struggling now. She’s losing.

The crowd starts jeering, mocking her family name. I don’t know why, but I can see the way it fuels the brute’s attacks. He isn’t fighting to win. He’s fighting to humiliate her.

This isn’t a fight. It’s a beating.

And when he slams the weapon into her again, and she doesn’t get up, I stand.

“Stop!” My voice cuts through the colosseum.

Silence.

The brute looks up, confused, before letting out a cruel laugh. “What? The little lady scared?”

I step forward, my anger burning through me. “Tell me, is there no honor in your fights? No rules about courage? Or is it just easier to beat on someone who’s already down?”

The crowd murmurs.

“Don’t you want to fight someone your own size, big man?” I taunt.

He grins. “You’re too little yourself.”

I smile back. “Spears.”

The moment I say it, dozens of spears are thrown into the arena, clattering against the stone. I pick one up, twirling it in my hand.

“You know, my master always said, if your opponent is bigger than you, just imagine him as a good, roasted piece of meat.” I grin, leveling my spear. “And I do like my meat well done.”

He lunges.

I move.

I’m faster. My spear finds every gap in his stance. Every weak spot. I strike, again and again, forcing him to stagger, forcing him to move slower, to react poorly.

Nyx stirs, her bloody face turning toward me. “Thalia…?”

Her voice is weak, confused.

But I don’t stop. I drive my spear into his shoulder, forcing him to drop his weapon. He roars in pain, falling to his knees.

The match is over.

The medics rush in to drag him away. The crowd erupts into cheers, chanting my name.

I take a breath.

I win.

I WIN.

The crowd's cheers were short-lived when someone suddenly leaped into the battlefield.

A figure draped in a grand crimson cape with golden embroidery stood at the center, his presence commanding silence. Beneath the regal cloak, he wore a tight-fitting armor made of fire-resistant fabric, sculpted to his form yet exuding both elegance and strength. Everything about him was sheer grandeur—an aura of dominance that made it obvious why Nyx had told me, You'll know when you see him.

The Phoenix King.

His eyes blazed like embers, flickering with an untamed fire, and his hair, wild and flowing, resembled flames dancing in the humid air. But that wasn’t the only thing that caught my attention.

“Lucian?” I whispered, my breath hitching. It was really him.

He smirked. “My sweet snow.”

Ugh. There he goes again, claiming me as his with that ridiculous endearment. Sweet snow. I had nearly forgotten about his habit of dramatically declaring us as skies and land, fire and ice, sun and moon. He would always proclaim his love for me with such conviction, and for gods' sake—we were children back then!

Lucian had always been that way—bold, persistent, and a complete menace when it came to affection. He’d goof around, propose to me at random moments, shower me with flowers, praise my beauty, and swear to protect me from all evil. Not that I wanted to admit it, but his persistence was impressive, and, well… his taste was impeccable.

Oh, how times have changed.

Now, he looked nothing like the playful boy I once knew. He carried the presence of a true king—strong, unshaken, his very existence commanding respect and fear. His clan, the only ones capable of wielding and repelling fire, made him nearly untouchable. Of course, his name had rung a bell—he had always been obsessed with phoenixes, longing to meet one. He had been a warrior ever since his family left Eldermere. We were playmates once, before I was betrothed to the Crown Prince. He was the one who had cheered me up when my mother died.

Before I could fully process my emotions, he spoke again, his tone regal.

“It wasn’t hard to find you,” he mused, his smirk deepening. “I wondered who people were whispering about when they spoke of a girl made of silver and snow wandering our lands. Look how you’ve grown. And yet…”

His voice echoed in my mind, softer, more personal. My feelings are even stronger now that I’ve seen you.

But in front of the crowd, he played the part of the Phoenix King. “This battle is forfeited. This lady is not on the gladiator list. What are you doing in our lands? Are you lost, my lady? If I were to give you a pass, ignore all rules, that would be unfair, right?”

He circled me, his presence suffocating yet strangely familiar.

What are you doing here? It’s an honor to have your presence, but you shouldn’t be here. People will think you are a threat.

Aloud, he added, “What do you say? Would you like to earn your pass instead?”

His voice carried a menacing edge, but his thoughts whispered a playful challenge. Would you like to play? Let’s just play a friendly game of tag.

The crowd stirred, murmuring in anticipation. They feared him. They respected him. But to me, he was just another old friend.

Was my mind playing tricks on me? Why can I hear his voice in my head?

Surrender, my love, his voice cooed in my mind. I’ll take you to the palace and we’ll talk there.

“I do not intend to fight you, Your Majesty,” I responded, bowing and kneeling. “If it is trespassing that concerns you, I am under the authority of His Highness and Lord Commander Zagan, High Commander of the Protectors of the Noctharow, Walls of Alazne.  We are here for a matter of grave importance—an exchange regarding a trade beyond your borders. I request an audience with you, Your Majesty.”

He studied me for a moment before nodding. “Very well. Since you are a lady of high rank in Alazne, I shall grant you consideration. However…”

There it was—Lucian, the negotiator. “What do you offer our kingdom in return?”

“The cleansing of the poisoned lands up north, Bleeding Hallows,” Nyx whispered from behind me though she needs immediate healing.

That land… Nyx’s hometown. A place infested with a thick, toxic miasma, slowly killing those who tried to clear it. Even mages couldn’t fully heal the ones who returned. It had been an ongoing battle for years. If we could help them…

I met Lucian’s gaze and spoke in my mind. I seek an alliance and confidential information—information only you can provide.

His eyes widened for a split second before a smirk curled his lips. Just as I remember you—bold, fierce, and stubborn. My sweet snow.

Is he really speaking in my mind?!

“I do not question your abilities, my lady, but have you even seen the land? You may reconsider once you do,” he said aloud.

Can I trust you? I asked in my mind.

That depends on what you define as trust.

I may be your ultimate weapon against the Celestians. The poisoned land—what if it was created from the decay of fallen Celestians?

His smirk grew. I’ve always wanted you to be my queen. That offer still stands, my lady.

Finally, he nodded. “Very well. If you return alive and well, the people of Valtara will honor your entry.”

Just then, a fiery glow filled the arena. A magnificent phoenix descended from above, its wings stretching wide, radiating intense heat.

Lucian extended his hand to me. “Shall we?”

Wait. He wants me to ride that with him?!

Trust you, right? Might as well trust me first, he mused in my mind.

The moment I took his hand, the phoenix lifted us into the sky. The heat was overwhelming, and I panicked. “Am I—am I fireproof?!”

Lucian laughed. “Oh, sweet snow, don’t worry. If you burn, I’ll make sure you look pretty as ashes.”

“That is NOT funny!”

“Oh, come on, you used to love my jokes.”

“I used to tolerate them.”

He grinned, holding me closer as the phoenix soared higher. “And yet, here you are—on a ride with me again.”

I sighed, feeling the wind whip around us. What have I gotten myself into?