JJ's hand slowly rose, trembling, and touched the side of the bandit's face. His greasy skin burned under her fingertips, but her grip tightened. Without thinking, she summoned the energy inside her. An invisible sphere ford around his head, unnoticed by him in his arrogance.
"What the hell are you doing, bitch?" he sneered, his knife pressed harder against her waist.
JJ's lips parted, but she didn't speak. Her breathing beca steady, the world fading around her. The grief, the anger, the suffocating pain from Daemon's death—it all focused into that mont. She closed her fist.
The sphere contracted instantly, crushing his face with a sickening crack. His body slumped against her, his blood spraying in slow, warm spurts. The knife clattered to the ground with a sharp clang, echoing down the alley as his lifeless form crumpled.
JJ stood there, frozen, her hand still hovering in the air where his face had been. She stared at the blood pooling on the ground, her breath coming in slow, ragged gasps. Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't wipe them away. A few rolled down her cheeks, hot against the cold reality of what she had just done.
The body lay still at her feet, a grotesque reminder of what she was capable of now. Her mind felt numb, yet the image of Daemon's face, lifeless on that flyer, remained sharp in her mind.
She stepped over the bandit's corpse, not sparing him another glance, her feet moving forward on instinct. I'm still breathing. That's all that matters right now.
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JJ wiped at her face quickly, shaking her head as if to clear the fog. The pain wasn't gone, but it was manageable—for now. She walked back toward the road, leaving the alley and the dead man behind her. Her body felt lighter, but her heart still dragged with the weight of what she'd done—and what she still had to do.
Her eyes lingered on the road ahead, her thoughts drifting to the mont when she would face Ty again—if she ever got the chance. Would she tell him about Daemon? Could she even find the words? The weight of the truth pressed heavily on her chest, but sharing it with him would only add to the burden he already carried.
Yet, the truth had a way of finding its way out, no matter how hard she tried to bury it.
By the ti noon approached, the grand spires of the Arena waiting grounds lood in the distance. The luxury hit her before she even reached the gates—pavilions made of shimring silks in hues of gold and erald, towering flags snapping in the breeze. High-tech displays projected holographic highlights of the day's most brutal fights, drawing the eyes of those passing by.
Sponsors, draped in fine clothing and glittering jewelry, mingled under the sprawling tents, sipping expensive drinks as if they weren't here to witness life-and-death battles unfold in the Arena below.
JJ's heart clenched at the sight. This was a different world—one where lives were gambled like coins, and people like Ty were nothing more than pieces on a board. She forced herself to focus, her steps quickening as she moved through the crowd. There was an energy here, a subtle hum beneath the surface, but it wasn't just excitent for the tournant.
She heard it in the whispers, the murmurs slipping between conversations.
"Did you hear about Lt. Daemon?"
"Soone said he was found dead. Can you imagine?"
"Chaos is brewing… wonder what this ans for the tournant."
JJ's jaw clenched. Even here. The news of Daemon's death hadn't yet caused a full uproar, but it was spreading, the tension building slowly like a storm waiting to break. She pushed through the murmurs, ignoring the sideways glances of those who recognized her. They didn't know the half of it.
As she approached the grand entrance to the waiting grounds, a familiar figure stepped forward from the shadows—a man in a tailored black coat, his expression sharp but welcoming.
"Lady JJ," the butler greeted her with a deep bow, his voice smooth and asured. He was from her house's council, a man who had served her family for as long as she could rember. He straightened, eting her gaze with calm precision. "I have been awaiting your arrival. There have been… developnts, but we'll discuss that once you're settled. You look as though you've traveled far.
Let's get you changed into sothing more appropriate."
JJ nodded, following him wordlessly through the opulent hallways lined with marble and golden accents. Her feet moved on instinct, but her mind was still tangled in the ss of Daemon's death. The butler led her to a private chamber, where attendants stood ready with finely tailored clothing—silk and velvet, materials far softer than the worn clothes she had been traveling in.
"You represent your house, after all," the butler said with a slight smile. "It's best to make the right impression." He motioned to the attendants to assist her.
JJ allowed herself to be dressed, her mind elsewhere. The feeling of silk against her skin was strange after days spent in rougher clothing, but she barely noticed. The weight of her house's status was one she had carried for so long, it was almost second nature to step into the role, even now, when everything felt like it was crumbling around her.
Once dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror briefly—she barely recognized the woman standing there. The butler appeared at her side, offering a small nod of approval.
"Shall we proceed?" he asked, gesturing toward the exit.
JJ followed him down a winding corridor, her footsteps muffled by plush carpets. The chatter from the waiting grounds grew louder as they approached the main hall, but JJ remained focused. There was work to be done here—she had to keep Ty in her sights, had to play the part of the sponsor, no matter how heavy the weight of everything else felt.
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