Time Unknown, Location Unknown.
Everything was slipping through her fingers.
The ground under her was unsteady, and Crush was left scrambling for purchase. The cuts on her hands ached; she doubted she could wield her hammer and chisel again without her injuries causing her art to suffer.
Could she even wield her own mind or her own artistic vision anymore? Makani's features had become just as fluid as the water Crush often compared her to. Now she was frantically searching through all the pieces to a puzzle she no longer knew the answer to.
Her eyes, her hair, her skin… all of the color had been leached out, as if Makani truly was nothing but a stone statue. Crush could no longer see the life in her, couldn't determine the definition of her features, was blind to everything except for the truth that Makani had been perfect in every way.
But what if Crush remembered and Makani wasn't as perfect as she once was?
Perfection was a fickle concept, one that Crush had fought her whole life to grasp in her hands. It was her singular goal, the kind that drowned out everything else. The water rushed around her faster now, trying to tear even more away. Salt stung the open wounds on Crush's hands, but that only made her hold on tighter, even though the sand beneath her threatened to crumble at any moment. She couldn't lose what little she had left.
The stone hallways she'd once loved now taunted her with everything she'd lost, and so Crush made her way to the surface once again, determined to find something that could keep her going. She knew there was no one left that could possibly satisfy her artistic vision, but there still had to be answers lurking beneath an unturned stone.
(Maybe she hoped that she'd overturn one and find Makani again. Maybe she'd reclaim the color of her eyes, the sound of her laugh, the feeling of Makani's hand in hers. Maybe she'd be able to go back to when everything was okay and her muse was right next to her, as the world always meant it to be.)
(Maybe she'd find nothing at all.)
The long hallways stretched on as Crush walked the thin line between the sea and the sand, searching for any signs of Makani. For the first time in her entire Arena experience, Crush Xing was truly at a loss. The sand was coarse under her feet, but it couldn't give her the purchase she needed.
Distantly, she thought of all the girls that had come before. Their faces were still clear in Crush's mind, though she had lost their names to time. She didn't need any details like that to bog her down.
Makani, Makani, Makani, Makani, Makani, Makani-
A long swoop of raven black hair, a carefully defined cheekbone, warm brown eyes. A strong, straight nose, full lips always on the verge of a smile, freckles dotting her cheeks. A tall willowy form, handcrafted bracelets dangling from her wrists, a gentle touch.
Crush frowned, turned the fragment of a memory over in her hand. It didn't feel right to her, but she didn't know exactly why. Maybe she never would.
Another piece. Red hair shining brightly under the sun, the kind that stood out in Twelve against the grey of the rocks all around. Green eyes more vivid than any Crush had seen before, like grass shining on a hill that she'd only seen in the schoolbooks she never read. Pink lips covered in the faintest sheen of gloss, the color of the sky at dawn.
No, that wasn't right either. Crush discarded the piece, growing frustrated with herself. If she couldn't manage to find the right ones, then what was she supposed to do?
(Even now, so far away from home, she could feel eyes on her, pressing ever closer. Clamor, her father, her mother. Each one wanted to take something from her, wanted to turn her into nothing but a shell like the rest of them.)
(She couldn't let them win.)
Crush dug her fist into the sand, relished in the stinging of her own wounds. Crush was still here, still living. She was still alive.
And she wouldn't let anyone take that from her.
With no clues to Makani in her own mind, Crush had to reluctantly shift her focus to the others in the Arena. Surely one of them remembered something, surely one would be able to share.
A memory washed up, faded by the tides of the ocean. Crush paused, leaned down to pick it up. She turned it over in her hands, heard the name that Makani had shared once before in the lull between consciousness and unconsciousness.
Alila.
One had been more than familiar with Makani, or so Crush had gathered. Surely she had to remember enough to supplement Crush's fractured memory.
She looked for One in the dark hallways, seeking out the tightly woven braids and white shirt. Crush didn't recall much about the girl - her focus was always trained on Makani - but certainly there would be enough details lingering in her periphery.
Dark hair in braids, red hair in a ponytail, sandy blond hair.
If she remembered correctly, that's all that remained of the Career pack. If she could find one, surely she could find the rest. If she found them, then…
The never ending hallways were monotonous, the kind Crush could get lost in. They reminded her of Twelve, but the grey stone had been traded in for wooden panels, muffling the sound of everything around her. Crush almost felt like she was being smothered once again, the waves creeping up around her ankles, threatening to drag her under.
(Even if she was dragged into the depths, Crush would never let herself be stifled. Her body could rot, for all she cared; as long as she could still live and breathe with every ounce of passion within her, that was all she needed.)
A flash of sandy blond hair.
Crush paused, took a step back towards the hallway she'd nearly passed. She saw it again, squinted. A large, strong form, though there were no allies in sight.
That was fine. Crush wasn't about to squander her chance.
(She'd come into these Games looking for liberation, but it kept slipping farther away from her. No matter. She'd still fight with everything she had to reach it.)
Her hands twitched for her tools, but when she reached into her bag, she instead found a rock that she'd been hoping to sculpt later. She wondered if this time, she could steal from the unforgiving stone that had taken so much from her.
He didn't even see her coming.
Her first hit smashed into his shoulder, knocking him off balance. Crush gritted her teeth against the scream that pierced her ears as she rammed her shoulder into him, knocking him down to one knee. His hands tried to seek out hers, tried to establish a vice-like grip, tried to hold her back, but she couldn't let anyone. She'd never let anyone.
Each hit was haphazard, uncalculated. Deep down, Crush knew she should stop, knew she had to stop or else she wouldn't get the answers she was looking for, but there was something stronger that kept her rooted there.
Crush saw red.
Red blood, red from pain, red of passion and love and everything in between. Crush saw it all before her eyes, knew it was so close and yet not quite there. But with every hit she grew closer to knowing, and that's why she couldn't stop. These rocks had taken and taken and taken, and now she was forcing them to give back.
Distantly, she heard a whimper, but she didn't know who it belonged to.
And then… Crush knew what she had been missing. Not red, but auburn. The kind that reminded Crush of fall and the chill in the air that came along with it. With every hit the image in her mind grew stronger, bringing Crush closer to the full picture she so desperately desired.
She could almost see Makani's smile again.
A sharp, biting pain cut into her hand. Crush dropped her rock immediately, stumbling back from the fallen body. She looked to find the source of her pain and resisted the urge to rip the arrow right out of her hand.
She needed those hands. Only they could save her from the monotony she refused to return to.
Crush squinted and saw Nine with a crossbow, her hands shaking too badly to be able to reload it. She risked another glance down at the body in front of her, but it was all red - the wrong kind, not the one that meant Makani - and she wondered if, somewhere along the way, she'd made a mistake. She didn't think Two had any relations with Nine, but-
There was no time for that. She fled without a word, cradling her hand and the color of Makani's hair close to her heart, keeping them safe. She didn't fear what fate Nine could bestow upon her; she only longed to get her chance to create something no one could deny was a masterpiece.
Crush Xing did not know fear. She did not know weakness. She only knew what it meant to create and to long to make something so perfect that it tore her up inside, leaving only bones for birds to peck at. Even if she became nothing in the end, at least she'd given all of herself.
But Crush no longer had anything to give.
She cradled the one piece she'd reclaimed close to her chest, told herself she'd find another. As many as it took to piece Makani back together, to piece herself back together.
Whatever would get her free of the specters that refused to let her go.
10:58 pm, Bottom Floor of The North Wing.
Their time together was coming to an end.
Alila knew it had to happen soon. They were too close to the end. She was running out of time and so was everyone else.
Makani was already out of time.
She and Justus set out onto the next floor with a new sense of urgency, striking up casual conversations with each other as they split up to check rooms. They figured that, as long as they kept talking to each other, it would be harder for either of them to be replaced.
And besides - Alila hated to admit it, but there was some level of trust built up between them now. They'd exit each room with a weapon drawn, size each other up, and then move on and continue their conversation. The steady chatter didn't exactly help them move stealthily, but strangely enough, Alila thought they probably had each other's backs if things came down to it.
But her mind was occupied by other things today. It was ten days into the Arena and she still wasn't sure what to do about Thay. She'd only really gotten to talk to him the one time, right before the Games, but she'd immediately gone against their promise to avoid each other.
Chances were, he probably didn't want to see her now either. But Alila wasn't sure what else to do now, so if finding Thay was the only way forward, then was the path she'd choose.
"This one looks like a bigger room," Justus said, brows furrowing as he pointed to a set of doors. "There was a set just like these down the other hall."
"Should we go in together, then?" Alila asked, glancing up and down the hall to see if anyone else was around. Since she'd been stuck at the Cornucopia for the early part of the Games, she hadn't gotten the chance to explore much, so this was all new to her. She refused to ask for help, but as it was a bigger area, she supposed they could clear it faster together.
"Might be for the best," Justus agreed, pulling open the door. "Ladies first?"
Alila paused and shed her jacket, wadding it up to keep the door from closing. Once she was sure they wouldn't be trapped inside, she stepped into the doorway and moved a dark curtain out of her way to see further inside.
The familiar setting immediately made her uneasy, and Alila shuddered as she moved farther into the room. This was the biggest room she'd seen by far; it almost looked like some of the auditoriums she'd been in back home. She was reminded of the smaller scale productions she'd do as a kid, dancing around on the stage and just having fun.
She didn't want to know why something like that was here of all places.
The auditorium was deathly silent save for their echoing footsteps. Alila passed by rows and rows of empty seats on her way up to the central stage. When she looked over her shoulder, she could see a balcony shrouded in darkness. It all looked just as empty as the rest of the theatre. She was almost afraid of making any noise as they crept towards the stage - there was no way a room as big and grand as this could be devoid of anything.
As they got to the steps leading up to the stage, Alila exchanged a glance with Justus, and they silently headed to opposite sides. Alila was uneasy enough that she hoped they could clear this area quickly and move on. If she had it her way, they wouldn't be here at all, but she and Justus both wanted to scour the Arena as thoroughly as they possibly could.
There was a slight shuffle on her side. Alila headed towards the wings of the stage, where the dark curtains made it impossible to see what lay back there. She glanced over her shoulder to see Justus had disappeared on the other side, but she had to trust that he was fine. That they'd both be fine, at least for now.
She carefully pulled back one of the curtains, trying to see what was back there. A smaller form recoiled as the light hit its figure, and Alila's eyes widened.
Thay?
She didn't say anything aloud, not yet, but she crouched down to get more on his level. She caught only the faintest details - messy dark hair, the faintest stench of blood, and part of what appeared to be an arrow. That was enough for her.
"Thay?" she asked softly, creeping closer. "Are you… okay?"
He shifted in the darkness, movements sluggish as if he'd been wounded, but he was at least still alive. Alila held out a hand to see if he'd take it, but he seemed hesitant somehow. She squinted, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the dim light, but the darkness swallowed everything but his face.
She sensed a presence at her side; before Alila could react, there was a sword shoved through Thay's neck. His eyes widened as he made a gagging noise, blood spilling down over the blade. She drew her fans and had them aimed at Justus within seconds, but he just nodded his head to direct her attention to the other side of the stage.
"He's over there, but he's got two arrows in him. I could feel a pulse, so I know it's not one of the clones, but he didn't even move. There's enough blood around him that he's probably been like this since yesterday."
She didn't wait to see if Justus had been wrong, instead scrambling to her feet and running to the other side of the stage with an unnatural lack of gracefulness. Alila nearly slipped on something, only managing to stay on her feet with the help of Justus's hand catching her arm.
The cause of her near fall was a small pool of blood on the floor. When she followed the smears on the floor, she discovered that Justus was right. Holed away behind a curtain was Thay, passed out on the floor. There was an arrow in his shoulder and one in his leg, so Alila wasn't surprised that he wasn't awake. If anything, she was impressed he was still alive at all.
"At least he had the foresight to keep the arrows in," Justus commented, holding the curtain back so she could kneel down and feel for a pulse herself. "Otherwise, he probably would've bled out long ago."
"He probably doesn't have the strength to take them out anyway," Alila said softly, as the weak thrum of a pulse under her fingertips was hardly a reassurance. "It's a miracle he's lasted this long."
Justus frowned slightly. "I'm wondering why whoever did this didn't just finish the job. At this point in the Games, you'd think everyone just wants to get home as fast as they can."
"I'm not sure," she said, standing back up. "But whatever the case, he's lucky."
"No cannon from the one back there," Justus said, pointing over his shoulder. "Looks like I was right."
Alila figured she probably should've felt frustrated by him taking a big chance like that, but she didn't have it in her at the moment. "Looks like you were."
"What do you plan on doing now?"
Alila frowned down at Thay, fans still clutched tightly in her hands. Even though he was asleep, he still appeared to be in pain. It's not like she could blame him. With the injuries he'd sustained, he was lucky to be alive at all. Part of her almost wondered what Thay was thinking now, watching them. But his voice was harder to hear where she was, and she had to rely on herself.
She didn't know how long she quietly stood there, watching, before she muttered, "I wish I could just kill him here."
"Huh?"
"It would be easier. But after everything… I don't think I could do it."
Justus seemed torn on what to say, and for a moment Alila was almost sure that he was going to offer to do the job for her. She was glad he didn't end up asking - she wasn't sure what her answer would be.
"He doesn't look like he can be moved from here," he said instead, eyes lingering on the blood pooled under Thay's form.
"That's fine."
"Whoever shot him probably knows he's not dead."
"You and I both know it's the other Nine. She's the only one that used a crossbow. And that's fine too."
"Lilith," Justus muttered softly, glancing around as if she'd appear at the sound of her name. "But if you're going to stay, then…"
"Then you can't," Alila said, standing back up. "I understand."
And she did. She could see that, even now, he was practically itching with the urge to move on from here, to try and find Phaedra. Alila didn't understand anything about that kind of love, but she knew it must've been important to them.
"I…" he began before trailing off, unsure what to say. "Good luck out there."
"You too," she said honestly.
There wasn't much else to say. Alila hoped she'd never see him again, hoped that he'd find Phaedra, hoped that… well, beyond that, she wasn't sure. For now, she needed to take things one step at a time, focusing firmly on the present to pave the way for her future.
"Wait," she blurted out, taking a few steps towards him.
He glanced back at her, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"
And then, without letting herself think about it for too long, Alila held out her hand. "Thank you. For everything."
Justus regarded her with an expression she couldn't quite read before the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. He grabbed her hand and shook it once, nodding his head. "You too."
She didn't wait to see him leave, instead dropping to her knees beside Thay. Though every logical part of her mind knew it truly would be best for her to finish him off now, Alila knew that she couldn't. She'd only ever be able to look at his face and see Thee's.
Perhaps in the final stretch of the Games, she'd only crippled herself again. But if that meant Thay could get home to Thee, then Alila wouldn't regret her decision.
Time Unknown, Location Unknown.
Lilith was lost.
Sleep hadn't come easily, and when it finally tried, she resisted its comforting embrace. She tossed and turned all night - or at least what she thought was night - trying to retrace her steps. She could point out every crossroads, every moment where she could've made a different decision but she didn't, and she hated herself for every single choice she made. She had lost, she was lost, and…
When sleep came, the nightmares returned. Lilith herself wasn't a nightmare; she was plagued by them. Back when her parents were still around, she had night terrors most nights that kept them up with her, running to wake her up from the horrors she couldn't remember long enough to relay to them. She'd wake up being unable to breathe, her throat sore from screaming, her heart racing wildly in her chest. She never woke up alone, but the night terrors also never went away. They were a part of her, no matter how much she wanted to deny their hold on her life.
The night terrors turned into nightmares as soon as her parents passed, and Lilith would wake up remembering every vivid detail. The details changed night by night - a car accident, a drowning, a brutal home murder - but the framework of her dream remained the same. She relived their deaths over and over again, each time more excruciating than the last.
(Eventually, she forgot exactly what happened to them. Sometimes Lilith wondered if they had died at all - perhaps she made it all up in her head. She could've just fallen through the cracks, gotten lost, been left behind. She didn't know anymore.)
The only person that had been able to save her from her own mind was Annie. Annie, who had a kind side that she only showed to Lilith. Annie, who took Lilith under her wing and made sure she'd be able to protect herself from anything. Annie, who told her that darkness was only scary when you didn't know what it contained. Annie, who called Lilith a little nightmare with so much affection that she thought maybe, just maybe, the nightmares weren't as bad as she thought.
That sort of mindset had put them at bay, at least for a time. It had taken a while, but Lilith was eventually able to get an adequate amount of sleep most nights. Some were more restless than others, but it was enough to keep her going.
But now… now, Lilith was too terrified to sink into sleep's open arms, afraid of what she'd find. Whatever path she'd stumbled upon, maybe she was too late to get off.
She was lost. She'd wandered into the woods, and now the forest was too dark and deep for her to find a way out.
(If she cried for help, was there anyone left to hear her?)
In the forest, any sense of time was long forgotten. Lilith could hear whispers of her past and present muddled together, each one trying to overwhelm her with their ideals. If she reached out a hand, she could touch a memory, but she didn't know which one she would find.
She was torn between two places at once, unable to figure out whose voice to listen to. No matter how strongly the present called her, the past refused to let her go. Or maybe, just maybe, it was she who wouldn't let go of the past.
She wondered what those she'd loved thought of her now, the only one remaining. Lilith wished it was anyone but her. No one would see Merix's bright smile or hear Nash's boisterous laugh or watch Annie fight with more life than Lilith could imagine ever again. Was there anyone else in the world that even remembered all of those things?
She was lost. She was lost and didn't know where to go.
"I'll be back soon," Annie promised, hurriedly moving down the hallway. "See you when I get back."
"But-" Lilith started before shutting her mouth. She knew it was futile to argue. When Annie set her mind to something, there was no talking her out of it.
"Hey," Annie insisted softly, taking a moment to turn around and gently place her hands on Lilith's shoulders.
Lilith straightened instinctively, as if trying to measure up to some invisible standards. All she wanted was to impress Annie, to never disappoint her. If Annie had to leave on urgent business across the District, then Lilith would wait here until she came back. Her ventures never lasted long, but Lilith was always anxious anyway. And with the current state of unrest within the Cardinals, Lilith wasn't sure what would happen.
"There's no need to be worried," Annie said, giving her the smile that Lilith knew was reserved for her and her alone. "I'll be back before you know it."
For some reason, the words rang hollow in Lilith's ears. She wasn't sure why, but all she could do was offer a nod.
"I'll, um, see you soon?"
"See you in a bit, little nightmare."
And that was all. No goodbye, not a real one. Even though dread had been pooling in her stomach from the start, Lilith couldn't summon the words. There was too much to say, and yet not enough at all.
She bit her lower lip hard enough to taste the metallic sting of her own blood. Why couldn't she remember her last words to Merix? Had they been insignificant? Were they a comfort to him as he died? Did he think she abandoned him?
But then she'd gone and abandoned Nash as well. Lilith had almost given up on him, had hoped that she'd leave and he'd come back to himself - or almost himself - and she'd return and everything would be okay. She didn't want to fight, didn't want to lose everything they'd had. It had seemed like the right idea at the time, but that didn't mean she truly wanted to leave what used to be the one true source of happiness in her life.
(Maybe, after a lifetime of people leaving her behind, Lilith wanted to be the one to make the first move. Just to see if it would hurt less.)
(It didn't.)
When she wrenched herself out of her nightmares, panting, sweating, on the verge of tears that would never come, Lilith made a promise to herself in the dark. Even if there was nothing left for her here or in Nine, she wanted to find her happiness again. There had to be something for Lilith to latch onto. Some semblance of happiness, something that would give her a reason to keep going. She'd felt that happiness once, she could feel it again.
But Lilith wasn't sure there was any happiness left, not after the choice she knew she had to make. Now, in the hours without a cannon, she knew she had to make her move again. She'd hoped so desperately to hear the signal that her mission was finally over, that she could at long last rest, but that didn't appear to be the case.
Part of her wondered if she was even doing this for Annie anymore. But if it wasn't for Annie, then who was it for? Along the way, had Lilith grown to enjoy the killing?
As she wandered in the forest, Lilith wondered if she'd run into her childhood self, wondered if she'd even be able to recognize the girl she once was. A younger Lilith may have feared the dark and everything it contained, but at least she was still a child. Lilith hadn't known that kind of innocence in a long time.
Somewhere, on one of these branching paths, surely Lilith would find the girl she once was. She could ask what she was supposed to do now, where she was supposed to go. With everyone else offering her conflicting ideas, she needed a definitive answer, and Lilith had nowhere else to look.
Who are you?
I don't think I know anymore.
Lilith Beherit was lost. And the forest didn't take kindly to those who wandered in without a clear way out.
2:18 pm, Bottom Floor of The North Wing.
Consciousness came back to him in waves. Thay wasn't sure if that was a blessing or not.
The pain came first, which he could do without. He was more than aware of his wounds, so the pain was a rather unhelpful reminder. It made him dizzy, and he let out a low groan as struggled to find his way out of the darkness.
The next thing he noticed was that he wasn't alone. That sensation wasn't much of a surprise, as he'd been watched for most of the Games. But when he opened his eyes, he was startled to see who it was.
Alila was positioned a few feet from him, likely choosing a place just out of reach in case he tried anything. It was a smart move on her part, as Thay immediately snatched a knife out of his belt and held it up. He knew he didn't look particularly convincing in this position, but he narrowed his eyes and leveled a knife at Alila anyway. He didn't trust himself to speak, not yet, so he hoped she would fill the silence for him.
She hardly seemed to notice he was awake, continuing to turn something over in her hands, but Thay knew that she was aware of him. It occurred to him that perhaps this was another one of those clones, and that this one would finally finish him off, but somehow he didn't think that was the case. There was no point in sending the Alila clone after him. The only thing preventing him from taking the gamble and driving a knife through her throat right now was the simple fact that he thought she could finish him off faster.
"What do you want?" Thay finally asked, breaking the silence. "Why are you here?"
"I was trying to find you," Alila said simply, still staring down at the object in her lap. "It was easier than I thought it would be. But then again, I didn't expect to find you half dead in the wings of a stage."
"You're right, that's my bad," Thay said drily. "Next time I'll try not to get shot so you can hunt me down more easily."
She finally glanced over at him and raised a single eyebrow. "It's a little hard for me to help you when you've gotten yourself shot twice."
"Help?"
"In case you forgot, we still have one common goal here."
"I thought you promised you'd stay away."
"You promised you wouldn't die. I had to take preventative measures."
He let out a harsh laugh. "Why would you throw everything away for me now?"
Her eyes flashed, and in an instant she was mere inches from his face. Thay blinked in surprise and tried to lean back, but there was nowhere else to go.
"I've already thrown everything away for you, for Thee," Alila hissed, punctuating her statement with a jab of her finger into his non-injured shoulder. "I spent days paying for what I did to save your ass in the bloodbath."
"I didn't ask you to do that!"
"You didn't have to, I thought that was the point. At the end of the day, I hardly know who you are. I did it for Thee then, and I'm doing it for Thee now."
"Are you fucking stupid?" Thay asked before he could stop himself. "You trained your entire life for this shit and you're willing to throw it all away to help me?"
As Alila narrowed her eyes at him Thay came to the unfortunate realization that he was dealing with a trained Career, one that he probably shouldn't provoke. "I could more than easily slit your throat right here and take care of you entirely."
He laughed again before the sound dissolved into coughs. "No you won't. You couldn't hurt me even if you wanted to, and that's why you did what you did during the bloodbath. You looked as surprised by your own actions as your allies were."
"I can just as easily leave you here and let whoever did this to you finish you off," Alila shot back, gesturing to the arrows still sticking out of his shoulder and leg. "You're lucky to be alive at all right now."
Thay winced as he tried to at least get into a sitting position, but he was left panting by the time he'd completed such a simple action. It was as if his energy had been sapped away entirely, and he had a feeling it would get worse as long as these arrows stayed in him.
"Lilith," he muttered quietly. "She has a vendetta against me or something, I'm not sure. The only reason she ran is because Nash… well, I'm assuming he got injured. I wasn't exactly awake to see for myself what happened."
"He died," Alila said, nodding to herself. "I'm not sure what happened, but his face was on the wall last night. It's down to seven of us."
"Seven," he repeated softly.
"An alliance of sorts could make or break the finale," Alila pointed out.
"I'm more of a hindrance at this point."
"I can hold my own for both of us."
"Against the Twos?"
Alila finally paused, and her expression was unreadable. "I can figure it out," she finally said.
Thay heaved a sigh. "You had your pick of three strong outliers and two of your old allies and you chose to pick me even though I'll clearly only drag you down?"
"Stop trying to talk to me like I'm making a mistake," Alila insisted emphatically. "I know what I'm doing."
"It doesn't look like it."
"Do you want to try and see Thee again or would you rather just lay down and wait for death?"
At this point, each option had merit in Thay's eyes. He was beyond weary, and each inhale made his chest hurt, so finally getting the chance to embrace death would almost be welcome. But Thee…
Have you forgotten all about me?
Even though Thay knew it was just a clone, just a mimic of the real flesh and blood Thee that was in District One, his words had stuck with Thay anyway. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he wanted to, Thay would never be able to forget his brother. It would've been easier that way, certainly, but Thay couldn't let go of that part of his past.
"This could get both of us killed," he warned her.
"It won't," she said so confidently he almost believed her.
"New deal," Thay offered, raising an eyebrow at her. "If things start looking rough, one of us has to promise to get out. For Thee."
Alila frowned at him. "But-"
"This will all be for nothing if we both go down," Thay said emphatically, gesturing to his shoulder. "If I can't keep up, just leave me behind."
There was a beat as he saw emotions flicker across her face, and he knew she wanted to ask what the point of finding him was if he wanted her to leave him behind at the first sign of trouble. Thay wasn't sure why he was so adamant either - a week ago, he might've used her willing partnership against her for his own gain, but things felt different now. He was different.
Thay didn't know if it was the arrows sticking out of him, or if it was something more, but he was tired. This Arena would come to an end sooner or later, and Thay felt sure that his time was quickly approaching.
Maybe, after a lifetime of running, he just wanted to stop.
"Promise me," he insisted, holding his hand out for her to shake.
"I promise," she muttered, fixing her gaze on the object in her lap as she accepted his hand.
All he could do now was hope she wasn't lying.
3:47 pm, Bottom Floor of The East Wing.
Was there anything waiting for Jack outside the Arena? Was there anything that would be worth the cost of the blood on her hands? Even if it was an act of defense, a fight for her own life, that didn't change the fact that she'd killed someone.
Jack believed that hard work would always produce results, but this wasn't the kind of hard work she valued. Jack didn't feel like this was the kind of thing anyone could ever truly earn, so what was she to do?
Jack wasn't sure anymore.
If she went home… she could see her father again, surely, though Jack didn't know how that would go. She didn't know how she could face him. How she could face anyone.
But she still didn't want to die. Not yet.
Though Six had been all too eager to attempt to dig into her psyche, Jack couldn't say that she was overall very successful. Her jab about being a cog in the machine was particularly ineffective - Jack didn't mind that part. She liked being in the middle of things, getting to work for her own living. It didn't bother her that she hardly had any connections at all; that's just how she liked it. This was how she was content.
(But was she really happy? Perhaps Six's words had managed to get under her skin just enough to make her rethink everything. Content was all she'd ever known; it never occurred to her that she could be more.)
She pushed it all out of her head. Jack had always been particularly good at clearing her mind of distractions, and if that's what she had to do to keep moving in this Arena, she'd get the job done.
The instant she got to the bottom of the staircase, a metal grate closed behind her, and Jack jumped at the intrusion into her silence. She turned back and eyed it warily, trying to see if there was something she'd missed in the dark, but there was nothing there at all. Her only companion was the loneliness she was constantly caught up in.
With a sigh, she turned and began to move down the hallway. If the gamemakers were condensing the Arena, then she wanted to find a place to spend the night now. With only seven tributes remaining, her time in the Arena was running short.
Three Careers, the Nines, Twelve, and herself. Jack only had ties to two of them - Thay and Twelve - so she wondered if she'd be forced into the path of anyone else soon. There wasn't anyone left that she particularly wanted to face, anyway. Even Twelve, whom she wasn't exactly fond of for killing Eleanor, had proved that she was a little… well, perhaps unhinged was the word. Jack didn't know anything about Twelve besides the fact that she'd killed Eleanor rather brutally, but that had left enough of an impact.
Jack wondered if, when the time came, she'd be able to kill again.
With a sigh, she pushed open one of the doors, hoping to find a place she could rest for the night. Jack wanted to get as much sleep as she could for the upcoming days, but it seemed she wouldn't be able to get that just yet.
Jack froze.
In front of her was Eleanor, looking just as whole as she'd been before Twelve attacked - no, better even. She looked as if she'd filled out somewhat, free of the stress the factory had placed her under. She looked almost… happy. Happier than Jack had ever seen her, anyway.
Was this the kind of freedom she wanted for the girls at her factory back home? Jack had never understood why Eleanor would want to put the girls out of a job, take their livelihood away from them, but…
Jack frowned. If Eleanor had gone through all of this and tried to make the most of getting reaped for the girls back home, she must've really cared about them. That was a strange concept to Jack, but maybe someday she'd learn what it meant to interact with and care about other people.
If people were tied together with string, each person a connection that kept their memory alive, then maybe all Jack had to keep herself together was loneliness. Deep and profound and inescapable.
"Jack?" Eleanor asked, tilting her head to the side. "What is it?"
The raw empathy in her voice made Jack want to clam up, made her want to shut away the entire world. She'd lived her whole life without needing anyone; she could take care of herself.
"You're not really here," she said stiffly, taking a step back. "I saw it happen. Twelve killed you days ago."
Eleanor reached out a hand, but Jack snatched her own back too quickly for her to do anything. The figure frowned softly, looking almost hurt by Jack's rejection.
"Would you rather I be dead?"
Jack wasn't entirely sure how to answer that question, though she felt her hesitation was almost answer enough. She'd never intended on getting allies, but she'd made the most of them while they lasted. This late in the Games… well, allies were more of a hindrance at this point. They were nothing more than a ticking clock hanging over your head, telling you that soon enough all of this would have to end.
"I don't wish it was you here instead of me," Jack said honestly, slipping her hand into her backpack to grab her knife just in case. "I do wish you'd gotten more of a chance, but I don't plan on giving up mine."
Eleanor ruminated on that for a moment, tilting her head to the side to scrutinize Jack further. Jack felt too perceived all of a sudden, even if she was certain that there was no true consciousness within the thing that watched her.
"Then you'll finish what I started, won't you?"
"Huh?"
"The factory. You promised."
Did she? Jack tried to remember what she'd even said back when Eleanor had originally asked. It seemed to mean a lot to Eleanor, but Jack never truly thought she'd get far enough to have to consider following through.
"I said I'd try."
"So prove it," Eleanor said, taking another step closer until she was just within arm's reach. "You're not about to give up because of one measly kill, are you?"
Jack had the knife up in a flash, the blade digging into the delicate skin of Eleanor's neck, trying to warn her back. She knew that she could leave right now, that technically nothing was stopping her, but it almost felt like a trap, one that she didn't fully understand. She could either run now and risk the fallout later, or she could face Eleanor here.
It's not as if Jack was ever built for giving up or backing down from a challenge. She couldn't let anything stop her, not if she wanted to go home. And yet…
Don't make me do this.
The words remained firmly lodged in her throat, but they rang in Jack's ears nonetheless. She gripped the knife in her hands so tightly that her palm ached, staring at the lookalike of the one person she might've called a friend.
(Did she ever even get that far? Was Jack getting ahead of herself? Maybe allies were all they'd ever been, all they ever would be.)
(It's not like Jack knew enough about friendship to understand the difference.)
There was only one thing she could do. And no matter how much she didn't want to, Jack knew there was only one way to get out of here with her life. Only one thing would pave the way forward for her.
At least it was quick. Eleanor went down without a fight, though the fake blood stained Jack's jacket regardless. She wrinkled her nose and took a step back from Eleanor's fallen body, wiping the blade of her knife off on her jacket.
Perhaps it was a sign from the gamemakers. She needed to keep her head in the game, or else someone else would take her out of it permanently.
But… maybe Eleanor was right. There was always more to go home to. She'd made a promise to try, after all, and Jack didn't give up easily.
No matter what it took, she'd make it to the end and find out what was waiting for her on the other side.
5:25 pm, Bottom Floor of The North Wing.
Justus was frustrated.
It seemed as if the entire Arena was actively working against him, trying to keep him from finding Phaedra. Alila had managed to find Thay within a day of setting out to look for him, and while that hadn't been the case for Makani, at least she managed to accomplish something.
But Justus? No, he was in some special kind of purgatory designed just for him. Stuck in limbo, just wandering around the Arena.
As long as Alila had a goal, that meant he had one too, and that's why he went along with her quest to find Thay. He'd hoped that sticking together would make him interesting enough that gamemakers wouldn't target him, and maybe he'd get closer to achieving his true goal.
(Well, that and the fact that Justus missed the simple joy of companionship. In the days without Phaedra, he missed having someone to talk to. It was nice having that again, even if it wasn't the same.)
Justus just… enjoyed being around people. He'd grown up in a rather lively household, so silence wasn't something he was fond of. It usually led to him getting lost in his own mind, remembering things he wanted to stay buried. The silence tended to suffocate him.
It's what he felt suffocated by when Cardiff was still around.
Seeing him again - even if it wasn't really him - had done something to Justus. No matter how many harmless stories he exchanged with Alila about their siblings, he couldn't stop thinking about that face in the mirror.
For a moment, when they found Thay, he almost wanted to stay, just so he wouldn't be alone again. But he'd never stray from his true goal of finding Phaedra, so he had to move on.
He twisted the ring on his finger over and over again as he walked down the hallway, trying to stay focused. Justus was afraid that if he wasn't constantly aware of his surroundings, something would manage to sneak up on him. A tribute, a gamemaker trap…
Justus let out a soft sigh. If anything, the last few days had gotten him on edge enough that maybe the gamemakers didn't have to do anything at all. They were probably more than content to watch him work himself into a frenzy, wandering aimlessly around the Arena looking for any sign of Phaedra.
"At least give me something," he muttered under his breath. "Any sign is better than none at all."
Naturally, he didn't get a response. Justus expected that at this point. The gamemakers' silence was grating on him. They'd stolen Phaedra away for some sick test, and… what? Was he supposed to be able to find her at all?
Did he even stand a chance?
No, he couldn't think like that. Justus had to keep hoping that around one of these corners he'd find Phaedra, alive and well. They'd be with each other until the end, just as they'd promised.
He surveyed the hallway once more, trying to determine if anything of worth lay behind these doors. Without Alila, he couldn't clear them as quickly as he had before. Now that Justus was alone, he had to choose his battles, and right now he just needed to find whatever path would be fastest.
Something on the floor caught his eye and he frowned. He stepped closer, gaze landing on a small scrap of paper. It looked small enough that it could've been the remains of a sheet of notebook paper accidentally discarded, but if Justus had learned one thing about this Arena, then nothing was an accident.
This was probably meant for him.
That was all the convincing he needed to step closer and snatch the paper off the floor, turning it over in his hands. One side had a compass drawn out, with a star by the N and a circle around the W. From what he'd seen on most maps, a star dictated where he was currently, and the circle was probably where he was supposed to go. But the other side…
Tick tock.
A chill ran down his spine, and Justus looked to see if anyone else was around. He hadn't seen anyone put the paper there, but he also could've sworn it wasn't there a few minutes ago.
"West," he said aloud, glancing around to see if he could gauge anything from his surroundings. "I have to figure out how to go… west?"
Nothing answered him, and Justus found himself even more frustrated now that he had a tangible clue. It felt so… so vague that he hardly knew where to begin.
He heard a faint skittering sound and nearly jumped out of his skin, drawing his sword to face the noise. Though he couldn't see anyone coming from that direction, Justus felt certain that it contained the source of the sound.
All of a sudden, it felt strange to be alone, even more than before. If Alila was here, Justus knew they'd at least have each other's backs, but he was alone. The only person he could trust anymore was himself.
As he approached the source of the noise, which had stopped as quickly as it began, Justus felt his stomach sinking for reasons he couldn't put his finger on yet. It had sounded like something small, so perhaps an object?
But no amount of thinking prepared him for what he saw when he rounded the corner: a bloody ring, sitting innocently in the middle of the hallway.
Phaedra.
"What did you do to her?" he yelled, voice cracking. "Tell me where she is!"
He snatched the ring off the floor, taking in the inscription on the inside. Infinite in life and unbound by death. Unless the gamemakers had managed to perfectly recreate his own craftsmanship, this was Phaedra's ring, likely ripped straight from her finger.
Justus clutched the ring close to his chest. He truly was running out of time. But he'd keep searching for Phaedra with everything he had left.
He had to find her.
Time Unknown, Location Unknown.
The water was up to her waist now, and Phaedra still couldn't determine where she was supposed to go.
It felt like she'd been circling around the same place for hours, the water steadily rising around her. There weren't any landmarks besides the stone surrounding her, and Phaedra didn't have anything to try and leave behind as a marker. She'd considered cutting herself to leave blood behind, but she didn't want to accumulate any more wounds, not when she didn't know what was waiting for her.
Was anything waiting at all? Or was Phaedra meant to stay here, surrounded by the water that meant so much for the Styxians? Maybe it would soon overwhelm her, drag her under, suffocate all the life out of her.
When she was nothing more than dust, would even the stars forget the name of the one they'd chosen?
Phaedra gritted her teeth, trying not to focus on such things. If she let herself get worn down inside her own mind, she'd never be able to fight back when something else was thrown at her. Though… it had been a while since her fight against the replicas of her friends back home, so maybe fading into obscurity underground really was all she was destined to do. Sent to give a good show and then be forgotten once her duty was fulfilled.
"My little warrior," Thetis cooed, patting the top of Phaedra's head. There was never any true affection in her actions, but sometimes Phaedra tried to pretend there was anyway. It was better than nothing, after all. "You'll make me proud someday."
"I'll win for you!" Phaedra had promised all too easily. She was a mere child, but it seemed so easy back then. She'd be a hero just like the ones in the stories she read.
Maybe someone would even love her for it.
Thetis didn't even smile, and there was a glint in her eyes that Phaedra couldn't place. "Yes you will, Phaedra. We're all counting on it."
Phaedra leaned against the stone wall beside her, gasping raggedly for air. Her nails dug into the rock, trying to get purchase on something, but she felt as if she was already drowning. If she couldn't fulfill the destiny everyone had thrust upon her, then what would she become to them? Would she be cast out just as the Grim Styx? Would she become a pathetic martyr like the First Styx?
No, no, there had to be more for her. There was nothing that could be gained from dragging her down here just to die in this steadily rising water. Phaedra couldn't give up now, not when Justus was still out there.
She knew he'd never give up on her, so she'd do everything in her power to make it back to him.
"Come on!" she called out into the dark water all around. "If this is where you're going to kill me, then go ahead! There's no use in drawing this out, is there?"
Her own voice echoed in the tunnels, but the only other answer was the water lapping at her waist, slowly creeping higher.
Phaedra wanted to cry, but she refused to let all of Panem see her like this. If she was really the warrior everyone wanted her to be, she'd fight until her last breath. She'd stay strong, just as she was always meant to be.
Over the years, she'd gotten good at pretending. Why not try for one final performance?
Still, she wished she could see Justus again, one more time. She could tell him she was sorry. For everything, for nothing. Phaedra just wanted to see his face again.
Perhaps Phaedra Nikostratos was never meant for the happy ending she so desperately craved.
She heard a strange noise as the walls around her trembled. Phaedra had to brace herself to keep from falling over, and to her surprise, the water level went down a bit, going back to her hips. Though a few bits of rock fell from the ceiling, she noticed that it didn't appear to be any kind of collapse.
Glancing around her, Phaedra noticed a new spot of light in the distance. The quaking appeared to be caused by a staircase appearing, leading up into a brightly lit room that she had to squint to see. Phaedra couldn't determine what it contained, not yet, but she could see that the water hadn't reached whatever was up there. She could finally be free of this watery grave, but she didn't know what was waiting for her on the other side.
Despite her great destiny, Phaedra was so painfully human that it frightened her.
Still, she'd do anything as long as she had a chance of finding Justus on the other side. There was only one way forward for Phaedra, and she'd follow this path until it led her to Justus.
As long as it got her out of this hellhole, she'd accept its outstretched hand.
There was a towel, a change of clothes, and a fresh pair of shoes by the opening, making Phaedra frown. She felt as if these supplies were almost supposed to be a reward for making it this far, but that felt insulting somehow.
Still, she didn't think she'd get very far in her waterlogged clothes, so Phaedra reluctantly accepted the gift. This new outfit appeared to be exactly the same as the old one, but the jacket and pants were once again perfectly white and free of bloodstains. Somehow, that was worse than before. At least in her old clothes, Phaedra could be reminded of what she'd done and the life she'd taken, even if she hated thinking about it. But… if she kept thinking about the girl she'd killed, then surely Kyra would never be forgotten.
Once she had gotten changed, Phaedra surveyed the room more thoroughly. It still appeared to be carved out of stone like the area she'd just come from, but this room was circular and had high ceilings. If anything, she felt it was reminiscent of an arena of some kind.
She picked up her spear and shield, leaving everything else behind as she moved towards the middle of the room. Carved into the floor was a large star. Phaedra knelt down to inspect it briefly. While there didn't appear to be anything special about the carving, she figured it was there for a reason - perhaps it was a symbol?
"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death. I release your soul and by my shoulder protect thee."
Phaedra jumped and spun around, aiming her spear at the intruder. It took her mind a few moments longer to catch up with her actions, and she nearly dropped her spear out of shock.
There stood Phaedra as the warrior the Styxians had always desired, golden armor shining brightly. She appeared almost celestial, as if the stars themselves had sent her down to Earth to fulfill their wishes. Even her spear and shield glinted in the dim light of the room, each weapon perfectly honed for battle.
And even though it was her own likeness, Phaedra knew deep within her that this was more of a warrior than she'd ever be.
"I get it," Phaedra said with a dry laugh. "My true destiny is myself, isn't it? Is that the narrative you've chosen for me?"
"It will be," the other one answered. Even her voice was the same as Phaedra's, but it had a hint of coldness that Phaedra hadn't possessed since she met Justus. "The stars were wrong when they chose you."
And even though Phaedra wondered that about herself often enough, it stung to hear the words come from her own mouth. Her so-called destiny was a part of her, whether she wanted it to be or not. The instant she'd been chosen, it had become ingrained in her soul.
"It doesn't matter if they're wrong or not," Phaedra said, adjusting her shield. "It happened for a reason."
The other Phaedra's lips curled up into a smile, the kind that would never grace her face under normal circumstances. Phaedra found herself shuddering under her gaze, but she held her ground.
"Or you're a fluke," the other girl countered, stalking around the perimeter of the room as if Phaedra was merely the prey she'd been told to slaughter. "What makes the words of some musty old religion compelling enough for the stars themselves to choose you to win these Games?"
Phaedra could come up with a million responses to that, but her mouth stayed firmly shut. What did make her special? Sure, everyone in Two hailed her as the best fighter they'd ever seen, and yes she'd achieved the single highest training score in Hunger Games history, but… why her?
The other girl seemed to notice that she'd hit a sore spot, and her grin widened. "Do you think I'm right as well? You're just lucky enough to be born, lucky enough to be talented, lucky enough to be here at all. That's what'll make it all the more satisfying when I take you down."
"Maybe I am just lucky!" Phaedra yelled, gesturing between them with her spear. "Maybe I was just lucky enough to be there when the stars aligned, maybe I'm lucky I got this far at all! No matter how hard you try, you'll never know anything about me."
The other Phaedra's grin didn't falter, but she lifted her shield and got into a fighting stance. "Then I guess we'll just have to see, won't we? Let's test the fates, Phaedra, and see whose side they're on."
Phaedra was determined to make the first move, but her lookalike appeared to have the same idea. She supposed she should've seen that coming - this clone was designed to be her, after all. Instead of her spear driving straight through a chink in the other girl's armor, it skated off of her shoulder before Phaedra had to duck to avoid a shield smashing into the side of her face.
"Don't you get it?" her clone taunted, teeth bared into a wide grin. "We're the same, you and I. This is a fight you could never win, Phaedra."
"But that means you can't, either," Phaedra shot back, raising her shield to protect her face as she jabbed at the other girl's feet with her spear.
Her clone danced out of the way, a bright laughter ringing in her ears. "Then I suppose we'll continue this eternal stalemate until something eventually gives. I wonder what that will be - your exhaustion or your wound? You know you can't keep fighting forever."
It was almost insulting that her own clone thought so little of her at this moment, when the fight had barely begun. Phaedra felt the familiar adrenaline coursing through her veins, though this was certainly more muted than it had been back when she fought against five opponents, or even the four during her private session.
That didn't matter. Phaedra Nikostratos would not go down this way.
She let herself get lost in the spirit of fighting again, pretending like it was just like any other battle. If she concentrated on solely her opponent's movements, Phaedra could pretend like she was training once again. She could get back to the basics, analyzing her opponent's movements before making any decisions. Luckily for her, Phaedra was more than familiar with this adversary.
Phaedra managed to get a long scratch down her clone's arm after a feint, and she quickly realized that even though this clone was built to be her, it couldn't analyze situations the way Phaedra herself could. While it had all of Phaedra's usual battle tactics in its arsenal, it couldn't utilize all of them. In this situation, her humanity was as much of an advantage as it was a detriment. Phaedra could get weary, could bleed and die, but she understood fighting far more intimately than this man-made machine ever would.
She just had to figure out how to use that to her advantage.
Phaedra swept her spear out, trying to catch her opponent's feet again, but a sudden pressure on the shaft of her spear made her instantly realize that she'd made a mistake. The other girl had managed to pin the end under her foot. She flashed a wink at Phaedra before lifting her shield above her head. Despite Phaedra's sharp reflexes, she was too slow to put together what was about to happen.
"Nice try," her opponent hissed. Phaedra cried out as she snapped the head off the spear, leaving her without her best weapon. "But it won't help to underestimate me."
The other girl advanced with a flurry of attacks that Phaedra could do nothing more than hold out against, fending off the worst of them with her shield and hoping the scratches on her legs would heal adequately. She had to wait for another opportunity, and she'd have no choice but to take it when it appeared.
As they fought, the other girl's stance shifted just enough that there was the barest hint of an opening. Phaedra took her chance without question. She raised her shield to fend off any possible attacks before spinning around to build up momentum and driving her leg into the other girl's side as hard as she could. As her opponent doubled over briefly, Phaedra brought her shield down on the girl's wrist, forcing her to drop her own shield. When it clattered to the floor, Phaedra sent it skittering across the floor with a well placed kick.
"Not bad," the other girl said, laughing quietly before lunging to hit Phaedra's exposed leg and digging the tip of her spear into Phaedra's calf.
Phaedra let out a cry before gritting her teeth. She knew a bold move like that would cost her, so now all she could do was retreat a few steps and reevaluate. She didn't have the time to check how deep the gash was, but she estimated that it had gone deeper than she anticipated. Phaedra had barely retreated a few steps before her leg gave out under her, and she barely managed to catch herself with her left hand before her head hit the ground.
Her own laughter rang in her head as Phaedra pushed herself up slightly, trying to regain her bearings. Though she hadn't hit her head, she was still dazed, and Phaedra knew that this was the perfect chance for her to be taken out unless she acted quickly.
In a moment of desperation, Phaedra sent her shield flying, but her opponent had the same idea, and she felt an excruciating pain in her left hand. She let out a screech before glancing down to see what had happened, bile rising in her throat when she saw that two of her fingers had been cut off entirely, and a third had a gash from where the spear had cut it. Phaedra couldn't focus on that for too long, rolling to the side to avoid her clone throwing her shield back at her.
At least that allowed Phaedra to get a weapon back in her hands, and she immediately scooped it up and held it out to brace herself from her clone's next attack. A heavy weight slammed into her shield, but Phaedra held out against the hit.
When she got back up, she saw that her clone had managed to reclaim her spear. The other Phaedra spun it in her hands, an intimidation tactic that Phaedra herself was more than familiar with. With only her shield now, Phaedra resigned herself to being on the defensive until she found a way to reclaim the upper hand.
It was strange to fight against someone that saw fighting the same way as her. Phaedra felt as if her moves had been perfectly matched - not even Petra was able to do that. For each hit that Phaedra got in, her opponent was able to match it perfectly. A hit with her shield to her clone's shoulder would result in the butt of a spear digging into her stomach. Her clone gave as good as she got - perhaps more, even. If Phaedra made it out of this fight alive, she'd be covered in bruises to show for it.
But part of the clone's words did ring true. For every hit that Phaedra took, and for each one she gave back, she felt her endurance being chipped away. Her days of being the Invincible Girl around Two were long gone, and Phaedra was afraid that soon, all of Panem would know that she could bleed and die just like the rest of them.
Her missing fingers made her grip on her shield weaken, and the blood made it slick, so Phaedra knew she was running out of time. If she was lucky, she could attempt to turn her disadvantage into an advantage, but she had to capitalize on her brief misfortune while it lasted.
When a well-placed hit of her opponent's spear knocked the shield out of her grip, Phaedra was ready. She let go of the shield without resisting and threw herself at the girl, surprising her enough to knock her down to the floor. Phaedra felt a pain in her leg - likely a hit from the spear - but she pushed past it, trying to win this fight before it sapped the little strength she had left.
She grappled with the girl, trying to detain her long enough to grab a weapon and finish her off. Phaedra sustained one, two, three hits to the face before she managed to catch the clone's wrists in one hand, eyes darting around to see what was within reach. Her shield was the first thing she spotted, so she scooped it up and tried to get a good grip on it.
There was only one thing she could do.
Phaedra raised her shield and smashed it into the side of her clone's head with enough force to dent the side of its skull, successfully stunning it for long enough for her to lunge to the side and grab a spear to level at its throat.
And just like that, the fight was over, but Phaedra didn't feel the familiar rush that came along with victory. Instead, for the first time since that fateful Fortuna Equestris, Phaedra felt truly defeated.
"You lost," Phaedra hissed, panting. "You were wrong."
Her own face smiled up at her, just as smug as she'd been the entire fight despite Phaedra's knee planted in the middle of her chest. "How do you know this wasn't the outcome we anticipated this whole time?"
Phaedra didn't let the clone get any farther, driving her spear straight through its head. It mercifully went silent, limbs briefly spasming as the life drained out of it.
She figured she was supposed to be grateful that she was alive, perhaps even lucky that she'd made it through this fight at all. But all Phaedra could do was hunch over her own fallen body and sob, clutching her ruined hand close to her chest.
No, this wasn't winning at all. With every day that passed, Phaedra felt sure that she was sealing her fate more and more.
And she was terrified of what that could mean.
Kills:
Crush Xing: III
Thay Yukimura: II
Shai Kingston: II
Kano Arledge: II
Phaedra Nikostratos: I
Alila Perwane: I
Lilith Beherit: I
Justus Arculeo: I
Nash Prior: I
Jack Carmichael: I
Arena: II