Chapter 42

Noora

Noora’s stomach felt queasy when she rose from her comfortable pillows and comforter. Something wound around her lungs and her heart, closing in every few damn moments until she was tempted enough to rip the bloody thing out of her chest and get rid of it. A guard picked her up from her chamber, ordering her to leave all her things except from Dainslief. Now that she was not in danger it felt strange to wind her fingers around the hilt, the ruby glinting forebodingly at her. When the guard didn’t pay attention, she slipped her bow and arrows with her, they would not separate her third arm from her. She followed the guard until she was brought into a chamber separated from the outer world, with no windows embedded into the stone walls, and no furniture littering the empty place. A few maids trickled in not a second later and started to wash and dress her. Many jugs filled with steaming water were brought into the space as they asked her to strip her body.

Noora was long past the point where she felt any shame for her body. The bite on her left calf had healed entirely, leaving an ugly raised scar across her pale skin, though she warned the maid to stay clear from it as she came close to it with the rough washcloth, they rubbed her skin with. When one maid wanted to go for her back Noora turned and grabbed her wrist in her grip until the young girl whimpered.

“If you go even as far as grazing my back I will rip you apart, understood?” she snapped.

The girl nodded frantically and the moment Noora let go of her she scrambled to scrub at her arm. Once they were finished, her skin was red with all the scrubbing, her hair braided back from her face and tucked under a silver helmet, the edges digging into her cheekbones. She was dressed in a soft layer of cotton until two girls walked over, their faces flushed with exasperation, a silver cuirass in their hands. Noora arched her brows at the curling coils that melted around the chest piece and raised her arms so they could slip it on her body. The piece of metal clung to her body like a second skin and she was scared the rattling of her heart would echo and burst against the plate of metal and everyone would hear it. She was nervous. An emotion that was usually foreign for Noora, though this was it. The last trial and she knew how important it was. After everything she went through there could be nothing worse that hindered her from receiving the gold and fleeing the kingdom with Lulva, that was all she had to keep in mind. Whatever came today, she would survive it because of her sister.

The maids proceeded to dress her in gauntlets, poleyns, and greaves until they handed her back her sword and bow.

One of them eyed the arrows. “You are not supposed to pick two weapons, with you.”

Noora narrowed her eyes at her. “Well, try to take it from me then.”

The maid sighed. “It will be no use to you.”

“I’ll just take it with me then, someone can keep watch over it,” she insisted.

The maid sighed again but nodded and waved her off.

“Before the last trial begins in the former arena, you are expected in the throne room by His Majesty,” the girl who almost scrubbed her back told her. Noora nodded and got off the pedestal they used for dressing her. A new guard was waiting for her at the door and accompanied her to the throne room. It was rather awkward being dressed like a royal knight, the metal clinking with every step she took and she now knew why the guards had as little armour as possible. She was starting to sweat like the sardines entrapped in the rusty metal boxes sold on the market every seventh day.

“I can find my way to the throne room on my own,” she mentioned to the guard who threw her a side-eye. “Orders of the king,” he told her as if that would somehow refer to her words. She pulled at her breastplate, her skin growing hot with all this walking. Could the prince have called her into the throne room before she was stuck into a boiling pot of armour?

Finally, they reached the doors of the throne room and the guard motioned for her to walk inside, before positioning himself beside the three others standing rigidly at the wall. Then it dawned on her, that every contestant was assigned to a royal guard, probably because of what happened at the last trial. She stepped into the chamber still wondering how the guards were supposed to protect them from a threat that was not opposed to manipulation and poison. Guards were good for protecting against powerful forces, though all contestants, besides Soren, were able to protect themselves physically. What they needed was to find out who was not afraid to use Wolfsbane to murder and raise shadow creatures from the depths of Hel.

Pika, Kekoa, and Soren were all lined up and she waddled toward them as quickly as this damning armour allowed her, to stand across from Nikolai. Today he was dressed in white trousers and a uniform jacket in a deep red, shoulder pads shining in the same gold as his hair. Five gold buttons lined the left and right side of his chest, a golden rope swung from one shoulder to the other, and his white collar stood up around his neck. A golden crown sat atop the perfectly coiled strands of his, shining ominously at her. His hands were encased by white gloves, lined with the same gold that enhanced his whole dressage. Noora wondered if the costs that had gone into his clothing could feed a village for over more than five months.

Though his uniform was a symbol of aristocracy Nikolai looked as entrapped in it as she felt in the armour of metal that surrounded her.

“I am glad that you all found your way healthy here today.” He looked at all of them, his gaze lingering on Noora for a moment until she narrowed her eyes at him. His gaze flitted back to the others as he clutched his hands in front of his body, starting to pace slightly as he talked.

“Because of recent events, we decided to hold the next trial inside the palace, it will provide you with more safety and security. The royal guards are posted every three metres around the arena that you are all already familiar with from the first task.” Noora noticed a small pearl of sweat trickling down the side of Nikolai’s temple, his hands cramping up every few seconds, though the prince desperately tried to hide it, crossing his arms on his back.

“There are two stone pedestals provided in the arena where all of you will fight in one-on-one fights against your opponents. The person you will fight against for the first round will be drawn by coincidence that is why I called you here. The two winners from the battles will then go against each other, though you have to keep in mind that winning a battle does not always mean winning the tournament. Until now you have collected all points from the jury just like you will today, which means that even if you might lose one or even two battles your points could still be enough to make you come into first place.”

Noora tried to remember the current points she and the others had, though Tyra did sound confident in her points two days ago.

“What if there is a draw?” Pika asked from beside Kekoa.

Nikolai nodded. “Then those two will fight again until one wins.”

“What does winning entail?” Noora asked him. His gaze flew to her, lines crinkling beside his eyes in concern.

“You will fight until the first one who draws blood, you all have chosen weapons you can fight with. There will be points deducted if you keep on fighting after the first drop of blood is drawn.” He seemed to stare at Kekoa when he said it. “Stepping off the pedestal means you surrender which automatically makes your opponent the winner of the battle. Any other questions?” He looked at the four of them. A moment of silence occurred where they all seemed to realise that this was the end. One last hurdle to take and then they would all go back to their normal lives, without the comforting pillows of the palace, the steaming hot meals every morning, afternoon, and evening, and their bath to clean themselves in.

“What if we draw our own name in the sack?” Noora spoke, the eerie silence that occurred and seemed to crawl into the edges of the imposing throne room making her wary. Nikolai nodded again and motioned for someone in the background to come closer as if her question made the most sense in the world.

“We decided that the two in the first place, due to your points, will have the honour of drawing their opponent’s names. We of course extracted your names then.”

A guard reached them, a lilac satchel sitting in his gloved hands. A stoic look was on his face when he called their names. “Kekoa and Noora, step forward.”

Kekoa and Noora shared a glance before stepping forward and the guard offered him the sack first. His hand dove into the sack and Noora tried to compile a chart of all four of them. She needed to draw Soren’s name for Kekoa to get Pika. Kekoa was a powerful fighter and she guessed the only one able to overpower him might be someone else with the heritage of a hunter, which meant if Pika won against Kekoa she would have to fight against her…ally? She did not know what Pika qualified as, though she knew that he did deserve to win this tournament. Soren did too, though she did not think he would fare well in the battles, or any trial in general.

She held her breath, chanting Pika’s name over and over as Kekoa drew a small slip of parchment from the pouch. He unravelled the crinkled paper and read the name before a small smile spread across his cracked lips. “Soren.”

Noora’s shoulders sacked. She started to walk backward thinking the drawing was over but the guard held the pouch out for her. She furrowed her brows. “I know what the other name is in there. I don’t need to draw it.”

Her gaze flitted towards Nikolai who had an apologetic smile on his lips. “For formality’s sake, please, Noora.”

She sighed, ignoring the way he spoke her name, and grabbed the one other parchment from the pouch and opened it.

“Pika.” She rolled her eyes as Nikolai clapped one time into his hands, a satisfied look on his face. “Well, now that everything is settled the tournament can embark. The royal guards will escort you back towards the arena where you will fight in the last trial. I wish you all the best of luck.”

The opponents all turned but Noora threw a look over her shoulder to look at Nikolai who had his back turned, his shoulders slack. She narrowed her gaze as she saw Raphael joining him at his side surprised by his presence. He was lurking beside the imposing dais all this time and she had not noticed him. Raphael’s eyes met hers for a moment, before a guard nudged her forward, catching up with the other contestants.

Pika fell back from the group beside Noora as they walked through the various tunnels of the palace, toward their fated battles. “Are you as thrilled about these battles as I am?” he asked her and she shot him a look, making a deep chuckle rattle from his chest.

“At least we know that our opponent measures our skills. Poor Soren looks frightened to death now that he has to fight against Kekoa.”

Noora pulled at her chest plate. “Who knows, maybe Soren will surprise us and has improved. Kekoa did help him fight the last days.”

Pika raised a pale brow at her. Yes, he was right. Soren might have improved but to reach the fighting skills a person like Kekoa had was impossible in this short time. As far as Noora knew, hunters were trained from the moment they were strong enough to hold a weapon in their chubby little hands.

“If it changes anything, I think that if there is someone out there who can win against Kekoa it is you.”

Noora’s head whipped around to look at Pika.

“What if you win?”

His lips spread into a gentle smile. “I will not.”

She stopped walking and grabbed his elbow to prevent him from continuing.

“Pika, I do not want to fight against you if you hold back. I do not want your pity or your compassion.”

“Noora, I will not hold back. But we both know that even if you were blindfolded and one arm of yours was bound to your back you would still win against me. I do not enjoy fighting, nor hurting others.”

“Then go for my damn weaknesses, I swear if you will not fight against me as I deserve it then I will make you regret it,” she snarled at him. How could he say those things? How could he be so careless about winning if all she ever wanted—if everything that ever hurt her had made her so desperate to become a slave of the crown? Pure entertainment for their people, treated like an interesting doll that should be amusing rather than a real, breathing, human being.

Pika slowly slid his arm out of her hold and grabbed her hand in his. He swallowed her hand whole, the callus of their skin rubbing roughly against each other. “I promise you; you will receive the fight you deserve. I am just telling you that when you win–”

“ If ,” she bit out but he only shook his head.

“ When you win, Noora, I want you to remember who you are because you are not only all this rage that you think you have to cling to. Under all this rage I know there is a girl dreaming that there is good in the world and I promise you there is. But you have to defeat the rage to see the good. I believe in you, even though you do not believe in yourself.” Pika smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “Stop talking,” a guard spat at them as they finally reached the doors that would lead into the arena. Pika let go of Noora’s hand as they all turned to watch the doors open and Noora could not help herself but think of his words. He was right, there was a girl under all these layers of ice, frozen for the burning rage to sizzle inside her. Rage was all Noora ever knew, without rage she would not be alive to this day and if it meant killing the good in the world, she would cling to it with all her might, because without rage, without revenge she was nothing.

The doors screeched open and the droning screams of the masses filled her ears. The people were bloodthirsty for a fight, enchanted by the adrenaline that would pour out of them while they would fight for their lives. This was all just a game nothing else and Noora intended to win it this time.

Because both battles would progress at the same time, Noora could not watch how Kekoa would beat Soren, because there was no other outcome in that battle. This meant she could not see his tactic, or study the way he fought in the open. She saw him fight in the training room many times and even beat him one time but only because his brain was infected by the sharp claws of Wolfsbane. She knew he held back often, especially when training with Soren because it just did not need as much expertise.

The jury was back in their designated tower, she could see Nikolai’s red uniform glaring down at her. From up there he looked even worse than in the throne room only moments ago. To her surprise, someone called her name from the tribune closest to her pedestal.

“Noora!” Lulva was waving at her from the tribune, Josephine was beside her with a sharp grin on her lips. Tyra and Aileen were also there with a small group of guards surrounding them. Tyra raised her fingers to her lips and whistled loudly while Aileen watched her impressed. Something tugged in Noora’s chest as she watched them cheer for her as a guard led her and Pika to their fighting place. She nodded at Lulva and the girl grinned nodding back. This was it.

She turned her head, drowning out the voices of the masses screaming, many of them yelling her name in joy as she crouched slightly across from Pika. He was waving at a woman who had a place in the tribune as well, a woman whose coarse hair was a mix of grey and blonde, her skin mottled with freckles, a gentle smile and tears in her eyes as she waved at him. His mother. She tried to make out if any of Kekoa’s family were present but she could not make anyone out. At least his chief was sitting on the jury. She looked up at him, blue paint spread across his naked chest and face, his beard braided in front of him, and from this distance, it looked like he was watching Noora with a horrific interest. Someone took her bow away from her. She watched it mournfully placed by the healers who gathered in a group. They stood at attention ready to interfere if anyone got seriously hurt. Noora shuddered and turned around as the announcer of the trial spoke his last words. “The first to draw blood will win the first battle of the tournament. We all wish you the greatest luck, Odin’s blessing be with you!”

A thundering gong marked the beginning of the fight and Noora slipped into the default mode she carried with her, her whole life. The masses blended into a sea of colours, fish moving quickly in the water, bubbles leaving their mouths, the edges of her vision narrowed in onto her opponent. He was not a person anymore but a hindrance, he was what stood in her way of freedom.

They slowly started to circle each other. Pika had drawn an axe, the cheek almost as big as her whole face, the heel and toe sharpened to perfection, though he only needed to nip her. Noora knew that the bit could hack her into parts if Pika intended it to. He stepped to the left and she swung forward, shifting her weight onto her right foot and striking out with Dainslief. Pika turned hastily, blocking her first hit before he started on a series of thrusts of his axe. His attack came way too fast for a person of his height and at the last slash Noora was too slow. His axe drove through the band that held her hair together making the braid come loose around her head.

“Really?” she bit out, annoyed. Pika’s lips twitched but he did not give anything away as he charged her again, this time he drew the axe around to ram the knob into Noora’s side. She hissed as she dove out of his way, almost stumbling over the edge of the pedestal. Pika’s eyes widened in surprise as if he was not aware of his strength. Noora held her side and wanted to get up but he was onto her a moment later pinning her down.

“What the hell are you doing, Noora? Get up and fight me, instead of this pathetic dancing around,” he yelled at her, and Noora’s rage grew. What did he think she was doing? She kicked out with her knee and met his groin, eliciting a sharp groan from him. As quick as she could, she got up onto her feet, grimacing because she realised that Pika met the almost healed rib, now broken again.

Noora wielded her sword elegantly, slashing and parrying every thrust of Pika, the force vibrating in her arms every time their weapons collided. Sweat was trailing down her neck and she realised why this was as hard as it was. The armour made her immobile. Noora was used to her lightweight clothing as she hunted, she used her litheness and quickness to lure her prey into traps until she overthrew them. Pika was flushed as he hacked out again and this time Noora only turned halfway. His axe came down against her chest plate, hard enough for the sound to reverberate inside her ears, her vision swimming for a moment, though it had the desired effect. Her armour split down the middle and a horrified yell came from the jury stands though she had not the time to turn her head to look who it was. Pika looked concerned, though his brows raised when Noora threw the broken chest plate from her body, her shoulder pads discarded quickly as well.

Now she could move.

Noora bounded forward with all her might, her upper body moving freely as she almost seemed to dance around Pika, her blade raising, every slash deliberate. Pika was growing tired, his stamina would not hold long like this. Even though Noora still had the gauntlets that hindered her movement, the metal heavy against her skin she managed to slice against Pika’s armour. The metal screeched horrifically though she did not graze his skin. Noora growled in frustration and barely dodged his axe nipping her arm. She was not as protected now as he was, though she would use the whole pedestal to her advantage. She feigned to go for his left and Pika tried to jump away, her foot shooting out and connecting with his knees. Pika hissed in pain, turning and flailing out with his axe in a clumsy throw. Noora kicked against his wrist, the bone breaking under the impact. Pika whimpered and let go of the handle. The axe clattered to the ground with a heavy thud and a small smile spread on Noora’s lips as she held Deainslief’s tip under Pika’s chin, tilting his head up at her. Her chest was rising and falling quickly.

He was staring at her with proudness.

“Where do you want your mark, oh courageous fighter?” she asked him cockily. Pika raised his hand to show her but then he broke out, grabbed her ankle, and pulled her to the ground. Her sword went flying and tipped off the pedestal as the beak of her helmet collided with the stone. For a moment she saw Pika above her doubled until her gaze finally focused. “You idiot, what now? We both have no weapons to draw blood?” she screeched as they rolled on the pedestal. She jammed her knee up, though Pika saw it coming. “Get creative,” he grunted as he punched her in the face, bruising her cheek heavily. Noora groaned before moving her head forward, their helmets clashing against each other.

Both of them whimpered as the sound reverberated around them. Noora was the first one to recover and dove for his axe, though Pika kicked at her ribs again stopping her short from grabbing the handle. Before he could go for the axe she dove forward on her knees and toppled him to the ground. She kicked the axe off the pedestal so no one could grab it and dug her knee into Pika’s throat. She pinned his struggling arms down, though did not know how to proceed as he choked underneath her, his skin slowly turning red. She needed to draw blood, killing him would probably disqualify her from the tournament which was the last thing she needed.

Growling, annoyed by the impossibility of the task she drew forward hard and made her helmet collide with his nose. The bone broke and a moment later she withdrew her knee from his. His left eye was slowly swelling shut but he still got up, confused as to why she stopped fighting him. There they hovered for a moment until he wanted to charge at her again though she quickly whacked her finger at him. “Uh-Oh, you lost.” Then she slowly swiped her shaky finger across her upper lip. He followed her motion, although her finger came away clean his came away red. From his nose, a trail of blood was streaming downward over his lips and chin.

A grin spread on Pika’s lips, looking grotesque with the blood staining his teeth. A royal guard stepped into the ring and took Noora’s arm, raising it high into the air. “The winner is Noora! The last battle will embark in a few minutes where the last two contestants will fight for the prize of eternal glory and 100,000 Gulls.”

Suddenly the sound of the cheering crowd came crashing in again and she turned toward the other pedestal to see that it was empty. Turning around she saw Soren at the tribunal, standing beside Lulva, a superficial cut across his cheek. He looked rather relieved as he waved at her sheepishly. So that was it, only one last battle. The royal guard got her down from the pedestal towards the ranks of the arena where a healer awaited her. Kekoa was standing not far away grinning slightly at her.

“Look at me. Follow my finger.” The healer captured her focus, waving her finger in front of her eyes. Then she checked her sides and head while Noora watched Kekoa pick at the blade of his sword carelessly.

“We can bandage your ribs up before the next round and get her new armour so she can fight.”

“No. I dont want any armour,” Noora protested and focused on the people around her. A few guards shared curious looks as the healer looked at her. “It is there to protect you.”

Though Noora only shook her head and even got rid of the gauntlet and the metal protecting her legs. “My body is the only thing I need protecting me.” She slapped the hands of the healers away who wanted to bandage her up.

“The only thing I need is a hairband.” A maid quickly provided her one and she got rid of the helmet before binding her strands together in a tight knot.

“I am fine, let us get this behind us. Ready?” She turned to look at Kekoa, who looked not even the slightest bit winded. Adrenaline still cursed through her veins and she did not want it to ever stop. “Ready when you are.”

She rolled her eyes and walked toward the pedestal Kekoa used. The crowd’s volume picked up again at how fast the second fight would procure. Taking the steps up, she noticed the crack of her rib with every movement of her left side but this was not a pain that would hinder her. She needed it to keep herself grounded and keep in mind what was important. Kekoa and her faced off on the pedestal and to her surprise he offered her his hand. She slowly stepped forward, shaking his hand. His grip was sure and heavy but not hurtful. “May the best fighter win.”

She nodded before stepping back. Her knees crunched slightly as she bent down, raising Dainslief in front of her. Now that all her armour was gone, she could feel the breeze fluttering against the cotton of her skin. The clouds in the sky were moving quickly, nature was coming up with a storm. She could smell the rain in the air, the small particles surrounding and rising around her.

Thunder cracked around them as the downpour began mercilessly and the crowds shrieked. It was time.

Noora focused on Kekoa who had a small smile on his face, the sky around him split by lightning.

The gong sounded.

She had no time to come up with a maneuver as Kekoa charged her with his kao sword. The handle was wrapped in leather, a feather wafting around the short blade, it would be no match for her sword. Their blades clashed at the same time thunder sounded around them. Kekoa’s soaked strands were clinging to his rust-coloured skin as they parried and slashed at each other.

Noora’s chest was rising rapidly as she was barely able to duck and clash their blades against each other. Kekoa was an extraordinary fighter. The way he moved felt like his feet weren’t even touching the ground, his arms drawing narrow circles, slashing at Noora over and over again. He ripped through her shirt and she stumbled back to avoid the blade nicking her skin. He charged again, his face a dark mask of violence, his pupils leaving no space for the warm brown of his irises. Noora kicked at him desperately but he was too fast, there was such a major difference in fighting against Kekoa that she was still used to Pika’s slower movements.

The rain poured harder, soaking her clothing and sticking to her skin. Noora raised her sword above her, screaming as she bounded down on the hunter and her blade clashed against his chest piece. She went for him again, this time their blades clashed, thunder sounded and they were so close she could see the soft clouds his breath produced in the cold air around them.

“You will not beat me, Noora. I was born to fight,” he ground out as they pushed their blades harder against each other. Noora’s arms started to shake by sheer force, her teeth grinding over each other as she pushed at him.

“You were born to fight, I was born to kill, I am a child of the god of revenge,” she snarled back and they both drew back again. Kekoa charged for her left side and she dove to the right, walking right into his trap. She left her left ankle unguarded and his heavy-footed boot kicked out, right against the scar of the dragon. She wailed out in pain slipping against the water around them, landing on the ground. Her head collided with the ground and she saw stars jumping in front of her vision. A blade came rushing down from above and she rolled onto her side to avoid it, the blade embedding itself where her head was moments ago.

She drew backward on her hands, dragging her burning calf with her. Kekoa ripped the blade out of the ground and stalked towards her. “There is no use running, little witch,” he taunted her as she wobbled backward, her sword heavy in her hands. Kekoa pushed his wet strands from his vision as his chest rose up and down heavily. With a heavy groan, Noora got back up to her feet, though Kekoa did not wait for her to gain her balance and lashed at her. She tumbled barely out of the way, throwing a sloppy slash at him as she stumbled forward and his elbow cut out and rammed into her back. “Ahh.” Noora was on the ground again, her blade clattering against the stone beside her. She turned her head to the side, to see Kekoa’s boots swimming in her vision. This was it, it was over. The moment he went for her injured leg she knew she was not going to make it, the injury was too fresh.

“A child of revenge, huh?” Kekoa taunted again, she could not even hate him at the moment because he won square and fair. He bent down, his face moving into her vision. “You fought violently, though it is my turn now.” He raised his blade to cut her and Noora did not know what went over her. With her last strength, she grabbed his wrist and embedded her teeth into his skin. Kekoa wailed and he clutched his wrist as Noora let go of him. Her gaze flew over to the tribune where Lulva was leaning over the railing screaming and calling her name at the top of her lungs. Tears were filling her eyes, her cheeks blotchy. She envisioned Lulva dancing on fields of wildflowers, a soft yellow dress swishing around her body. The sun was high in the sky, its beams peeking through the emerald leaves of the trees surrounding them, bathing them in warm blankets of honey-coloured light. Slowly she got up to her knees, dragging herself into a standing position, careful not to put any weight on her burning leg. She grabbed Dainslief again and turned to Kekoa who had finished whimpering, as his hand left his wrist, she could see the crescent shape embedded into his skin.

“A little souvenir,” she said cockily, shrugging her shoulders even though it felt like a thousand needles had embedded themselves into her body. Kekoa was raging as he swiped up his blade, his movements sloppy now that he was annoyed. Noora raised both her arms and he faltered. The rain pouring down at them stopped for a moment, the raindrops hovering in the air around them both. The arena turned mute.

It was as if Noora had built a dome around them, making time stop only for a moment. Her body shook with exhaustion though she still spoke up. “I want you to know what I am capable of.” She turned around to look at the quiet arena, everyone was anticipating her next move.

“I am not a half-blood whore, something unworthy of treating kindly. I have been graced by the power of the gods and I will embed in them as I like but for this,” she turned back to look at Kekoa, the half-blood hovering in the air as thunder cracked around them, “this time I will fight with you, without any advantage of my powers. To give you a chance.”

She moved her arms down and the swell of water rained down on them again. With a guttural scream, Kekoa charged at her and their blades clashed. He tried to go for her leg again though Noora was careful now. With every step she advanced on him, her slashes grew more powerful. She jammed her elbow into his temple making him tumble for a moment, though a moment later he was onto her again. He lashed out at her and got a well-placed hit at her ribs, making her gasp in pain. He parried her slashes and then Dainslief flew away. Noora cursed as he charged her and his hands roved around her neck like a necklace. Noora kicked with her feet, screaming in pain as she used her left leg accidentally. She dug her nails into his wrist until he let go of her. Noora toppled forward choking slightly before she charged.

It would be risky to go into the offensive with a fighter like Kekoa but she had nothing left. She wound her arms around his middle and he laughed, hitting her left side repeatedly until there were no bones to break anymore. Searing pain dove through her, though she kept going tipping his balance with her foot. They both fell to the ground and she kicked Kekoa’s sword from the platform. He was on top of her in a matter of seconds, punching her face over and over. Her body slumped forward as one eye swelled shut and she watched him reach out again and again.

She groaned though with the last of her strength she caught a hold of his injured wrist, she dug her nails into the crescent of her teeth until he yowled in pain. With a groan, she threw herself forward, her knees crashing against the ground and sunk her teeth into his injured wrist. Kekoa screamed so horrifically that the thunder seemed like a background noise. Noora screamed against his wrist until she could taste iron on her lips and she let go. Spitting his blood onto the platform.

Silence ensued and then it all crashed down. The crowd erupted into cheers and Noora slowly got up to her feet, tears trailing down her cheeks as she held the side of her broken ribs. She was shivering desperately, her clothes soaked to her bones, the few strands that escaped her knot clinging to her sweaty temples. It was over, she won. The knowledge buried itself so deep into her soul she shuddered and turned to–

“NO! YOU FILTHY HALF-brEED! I WILL PICK YOU APART PIECE BY PIECE AND THEN BATHE IN YOUR BLOOD!”