Chapter 2
PrioritiesNia’s breath caught in her throat.
All of the mental preparation that she had undertaken to face a three-star tuner seemed pointless. Ashara? She would face Ashara? She was stunned. Whiskey raised her voice first. “That seems a little unfair, no? Why can’t Nia take whoever goes first between Dusk or I?”
Ashara cooly blew Whiskey’s suggestion off with a wave of his hand. “Because you don’t get to choose how strong the criminals you catch will be, Captain Saint-Claire. Besides, like I said, its not about winning or losing, it’s about showing off your skills. Now, Espresso, Dusk, you’ve got two minutes before your match starts. Go do whatever you need to do to get ready. The rest of you, go sit on the bleachers and watch.”
Ashara turned and strode over to sit on the seats, followed by Kaiser. Whiskey turned to face Nia. “Don’t worry, Nia, you’re gonna do great. Don’t let him intimidate you, you’ve worked hard for this and you’re gonna prove that you deserve to come join us, okay?”
Nia nodded quietly, stupefied by the news of her opponent for a moment longer. It had taken her years to properly master her resonance, even longer for Sil to teach her to fight with fists and knives. The work she had done in combat and practical training wasn’t the gruelling part, though. It was the tests and formal exams that she had needed to go through. Hours and hours sat in dusty halls with professors brought in from the university to modulate. Sil hadn’t taught her much during her time with him, but she remembered every late night in his kitchen going through physics and history books… She shook her head clear of those thoughts and followed Whiskey over to her sister. Espresso stood by the bottom of the bleachers, chugging through the cups of coffee that she had brought with her.
“Easy tiger, you’ll have a heart attack before you even get into the fight!” Nia quipped, trying to ease the tension in the air.
Espresso gasped as she finished downing the second cup, briefly pausing to smile at Nia. “Gotta fuel up!”
Nia chuckled and nodded appreciatively. Although she and Espresso had shared a lot of classes together, they had been split apart for the duration of the practical exams and Nia hadn’t had the chance to see the young woman’s resonance. “So, what’s your plan?”
Four hums filled the air around Espresso as she crushed the third cup of coffee, each one oscillating between a low and high pitch. They sounded almost akin to the sliding whine of a radio just as it tuned into an active frequency. Nia watched her demeanour rapidly changing from the same, quiet nerves that she had felt to a jittery excitement. Espresso clenched her hands into fists and punched them together. As she pulled her knuckles apart, Nia saw thin, blue lines of electricity crackling between them.
Ashara called out from the bleachers. “Right people, let’s get this thing moving.”
As Espresso strode past Nia to the centre of the pit, she didn’t spare her peer a glance. Nia felt the hair on her arms start to stand as the static energy that poured through Espresso reached through the air towards her. Once she passed her, Espresso finally answered. “Hit him hard, hit him fast, don’t let him get back up.”
If Dusk felt any strong need to prepare himself for the opponent that stood before him, he hadn’t acted on it. He spent the few minutes that he had been given to ready himself, emptying his pockets of the matchbook and cigarettes he carried on him. He left each item in a neat pile beneath his hat, on the bleachers next to Kaiser.
Espresso watched him like a hawk as he calmly strode to the centre of the pit. It was an area of no more than 100 feet, even less once you accounted for the scaffolded seats crammed against the western wall. Neither of them had seen the other fight before, but Dusk’s reputation and his unique resonance were well known to Espresso.
Affectionately called ‘the ball’ by those that frequently accompanied him on investigations, Dusk’s resonance created a jade orb which accumulated energy as it exchanged hands with different people. Once eight passes had been made without the ball touching a surface more than once, it provided a massive burst of energy to its bearer. Stories of Dusk using this energy to tear through walls and criminals alike were well known, but Espresso knew that there was more to it than that. She remembered the first time Whiskey came home from a sting-operation with Dusk, it almost seemed like she was high on the power that came from his assistance. If the ‘ball’ gave its energy to another tuner, they could use it to massively enhance a single use of their resonance.
Though Espresso knew much of Dusk, he knew comparatively little of her and her resonance. He had not failed to note the sparks of electricity that shot off of her hands as she turned away from Nia and Whiskey, but the fine details of how she fought escaped him.
Pushing his curiosity to the back of his mind, he stood at his mark. There was a distance of fifteen feet between him and Espresso as they came to a stop. He was a good foot taller and was confident that he would be stronger. Folding his hands into his pocket, he concealed his legs by folding his coat over them. Across the pit, Espresso adopted a pugilist’s stance, hands clenched and at the ready, hovering in front of her chin.
As she watched Dusk adopt his relaxed stance, Espresso closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her instincts were on a hair trigger, enhanced by the electricity which her resonance created. She felt every subtle change in the wind that flew forth from the tunnel behind her. She could parse out the individual chips of softened bark as they shifted beneath her feet. If she concentrated, she could even hear the rhythm of Dusk’s breath. It was slow and methodical, but shaky, like he was trying to calm himself down.
Opening her eyes, her gaze matched his as she furrowed her brow. She saw no malice in his eyes, no anger, not much of anything. So why was he so damn rattled? What was going through his head? Clenched fists shaking, she crouched lightly lower and waiting for Ashara’s command to begin fighting.
There was a moment of silence. Espresso saw Whiskey and Nia, stood side by side by the viewing seats, she flicked her eyes to Kaiser as he read through Dusk’s notebook. Sat beneath the small cluster of professional tuners, Ashara reclined and looked on. He looked like an emperor, judging the gladiators in his colosseum ring.
When Ashara broke the stillness, his voice came out like rumbling thunder as he commenced the test. “BEGIN.”
Espresso was the first to move. Pushing her back foot off of the ground, she shot towards Dusk. The man did not budge, he did not even remove his hands from his pockets as she tore towards him. Did he think that little of her? Did he think that he could fight her without his hands?
Espresso snarled in frustration as she closed the distance. Right hand coiled just ahead of her chin; Espresso readied herself to throw a stiff jab aimed straight at Dusk’s face. Before she could launch the punch, he suddenly jerked forwards and planted his thick, leather boot into her stomach.
A collective gasp shot through the trio on the bleachers as Espresso stumbled back, struggling to shove the air back into her lungs. Keeling over for a moment, she could not bring her gaze above the man’s hips. As Dusk shot forward, his front foot dug itself into the ground for support. Espresso’s enhanced instincts flared to life; she felt a violent displacement in the air around her. Crouching low, she felt the heavy heel of his boot cut just over her head.
Shifting her weight back, she leapt away to keep her distance. She had reclaimed her breath. Looking up, she watched Dusk methodically return to the casual stance that he had adopted at the beginning of the fight. This time, instead of waiting for her, he started to slowly walk her down.
“In the field, rushing in like that can easily get you killed, Ms. Saint-Claire. Be more careful.” As soon as he was in range, Dusk popped a knee up as though he was preparing another kick to the stomach. Instinctively, Espresso lifted her own knee to absorb the blow. Just as quickly as he had flicked his knee up, Dusk swung his hips and released a high kick aimed just at her chin. Enhanced reflexes saved Espresso once again as she used her forearm to brace for the impact.
For a second, it seemed as though Dusk would overwhelm her. Espresso’s feet sunk deeper into the wood chips, but eventually the dull thrum of the blow washed away. Once it had dissipated, Espresso launched her counter attack. She wrapped both hands around his raised leg and twisted it, turning her hips and pulling. As she did, sparks of electricity flowed down Espresso’s arms, her muscles swelled in size and she threw has hard as she could, sending Dusk flying across the colosseum pit.
“KEEP IN IT!” Whiskey encouraged from the sidelines. Nia flinched in surprise at the sudden cheer. Espresso took her sister’s advice, racing forward to capitalise on her advantage.
Dusk slammed into the ground, tumbling for a moment before pulling his hands out of his pockets and picking himself up. A look of approval shot across his face as he watched Espresso charging towards him. “Good, nice pressure.”
As she drew closer, he launched another straight kick to her stomach. Espresso was ready this time, crossing her burgeoning arms over her midriff to block the attack, then pushing the leg to one side and firing off a cutting hook that nearly clipped Dusk in the chin before he slipped to one side, avoiding the punch.
Espresso was relentless. Finishing the rotation of her hips after the hook, she launched a vicious elbow that slammed into the man’s chin. As she made contact, she roared and discharged the lightning from her arms into his face. A blinding, blue light and the hum of electricity filled the air. Whiskey yelled in excitement, while Nia’s eyes widened in shock. As the electricity dissipated, Dusk was stood dazed.
Still, Espresso did not relent. “Keep your hands in your fucking pockets.” Stepping back slightly, she launched a hooked kick just above Dusk’s right hip, sending him careening to the floor. Nia pre-empted Whiskey’s encouragement, raising her arms and whooping, but this time she was alone. The stands had fallen silent, and the colour drained from Whiskey’s face.
“Dusk, stay cool.” An olive-skinned man cautiously warned from the bleachers. Nia flicked her gaze up to him, but she could only really make out his tight hair, braided securely behind his head. Her attention was immediately drawn back to the man in the ring, who slowly picked himself off of the ground. His hand had left his coat, folding it back to clutch above his hip, where blood was starting to ooze out into his shirt. Espresso’s eyes widened. She had hit him hard, sure, but not hard enough to cause a wound like that.
Her resentment for his implied disrespect waned for a moment as Espresso stood before him, senses enhanced by her resonance. At such close proximity, she could hear his rapid, thumping heartbeat. She saw his eyes widen and his jaw clench, The next thing she knew, seemingly without warning or wind-up, he had planted another kick into her gut.
Espresso spiralled to the ground. As she picked herself up, she saw a shadow quickly descending from above her. Dusk had raised a foot high and attempted a crushing axe kick, swinging his heel as hard as he could into the ground. pushed off of the ground as hard as she could. Just before impact, she flung herself from a sitting position, getting as far away from his foot as possible.
“Dusk! Take it easy!” Whiskey shouted from the sidelines, nervously looking to Ashara, who had sat up from his reclined position and was resting his head on his interwoven fingers, propped up on his knees.
The blessing of Espresso’s enhanced senses was the ability to quickly recognise and avoid attacks that she would otherwise have no method of dodging. The curse was the excruciating detail of her pain; after her arms had shrunk down to a normal size, they had been assaulted with shocks and spasms. She gritted her teeth and pushed through the crackle of electricity that coursed through her muscles. It was only by clenching her fists with all of her might that she could fight off the twitched that fought to escape her hands.
Although her enhanced senses would remain for the full duration of her resonance, she could only empower her arms once more before they would become numb and inert. Counting the two uses she would have with her legs; she had three more surges in physicality in her before she would be unable to move. She carefully studied Dusk’s face. What was this sudden change in his attitude? Was he a sore loser? Had she struck a nerve, or an old wound?
“You’re stalling. When a psychopath is releasing poisonous gas or razor wire into a crowd of innocents, you don’t have the time to wait around.” Dusk chastised as he started walking backwards.
“I thought you told me not to rush?” Espresso walked towards him, happy to let him back himself into the colosseum wall. “Now you’re telling me that I’m going too slowly?”
Dusk said nothing, his hand tentatively clutching the bleeding wound.
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“Then which one is it? Fast or slow?” Espresso interrogated as she matched his pace, watching the shadows of the colosseum wall veil fall over him.
She heard him try to calm himself with a deep, forced breath. His gaze softened nearly imperceptibly, a detail only Espresso could pick up on. “There’s no right answer. All that’s waiting for us at the end of this is the regret that comes from knowing we could have done more. Do yourself a favour, Ms. Saint-Claire. Walk away, you can have a happy life outside of this colosseum.”
Dusk pointed to the exit, bloody hand returning to his pocket. Once more, the frustration crept back into Espresso, tightening her lungs and clenching her jaw. Narrowing her eyes, she mustered her resolve. Electricity channelled into her legs, causing her thighs and calves to swell up, vascular and tough. When she crouched low, the enhanced muscles crackled with static, flowing from her feet into the floor. Kicking off of the ground, she launched herself through the air towards him, pulling her back leg back to wind up a heavy kick.
Having been overpowered by her twice, Dusk had been forced to adjust to the difference in their physical ability. As Espresso drew closer, he recognised the highly telegraphed kick. Ducking, he slid one leg to the side and leant his torso and head out of the way. Owing to the speed with which she launched herself, Espresso didn’t have the time to correct the angle of her attack, her foot soaring over Dusk’s head and into the colosseum stone. A thunderous boom echoed through the colosseum as a foot-wide crater appeared in the wall, sending dust and shards of rock spraying back into Espresso’s face.
“Espresso, too heavy!” Nia called out, knuckled white with anticipation. “Pace yourself!”
As the spasms and shocks spread down her leg and the muscles started to shrink, Espresso stood frozen and cursed herself in frustration. The moment of remorse quickly passed as her ears pricked, hearing something heavy slide through the wood behind her. Standing still, unable to move her legs for the pain, she twisted her body and ducked her head, hiding behind a numb arm.
After her kick had sailed by him, Dusk had shot up and after her. Sliding across the ground on his front foot, he placed both hands on the floor to support himself as he whipped his back leg toward her, building up as much momentum as possible as it swung from the floor all the way up to her head.
It had taken Espresso every ounce of strength to push off Dusk’s kick from a standing position. That had been before she had cast away the strength in her arms to escape his next attack. This time, her mispositioning had given him a run up. There was only one way to block the blow.
Gritting her teeth, Espresso let the electricity flow back into her arms, swelling them up again. As Dusk’s kick collided with the blocking appendage, she felt the force threaten to shatter the bone itself. Just as soon as the burning pain started, it subsided. When the charge dissipated from her arms, they fell limp and numb by her sides. Though she couldn’t feel the pain now, she certainly would tomorrow.
The feeling returned to Espresso’s legs just in time to clumsily kick away from Dusk’s follow up. Following through from the kick, he twisted his hips and dragged his front foot into the air behind it. The second blow clipped Espresso’s shoulder as she staggered away, while Dusk quickly swapped the position of his hands to hold him up over his extended attack. As soon as his feet touched the ground again, he shot back up from his handstand and buried his hands within his pocket.
The two fighters collected themselves. Dusk took a deep breath, betraying his exertion, then continued his lecture. “You’re under pressure, so you’ve charged straight in, but now you’ve lost the use of your hands without gaining any ground in stopping me. If this were a disaster situation, how could you save any lives in a state like this?”
“Fuck off Dusk, leave her alone!” Whiskey admonished him from the sidelines. Espresso held her head low, tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t know.” There was less sorrow in her voice than there was frustration, which reached a boiling point as she whipped her head towards Dusk. “So what? I should take it slow, refuse the risks and watch people die?” Despite the venom in her voice, she stepped further away from Dusk, who started to slowly walk after her.
“Yes.” He nodded, his hollow stare unbreaking. “There’s nothing heroic in sacrificing yourself if you leave all the burdens to someone else.” Listening from the sidelines, Nia detected the slightest hint of sorrow in his voice. Dusk stopped walking, and took another deep breath before continuing. “Forfeit, Ms. Saint-Claire, you can’t fight in this state.”
Espresso’s confidence was as shaken and numb as her arms. She had been pushing herself as hard as she could, burning away all of her strength, and Dusk had hardly taken a hand out of his coat. Her features coiled together in a mixture of anger and sorrow, before she stared at the ground and meekly raised her gaze to Ashara.
“I forf—”
“Like hell you do!” Nia’s voice took on a crackly grumble as she encouraged her peer from the sidelines. “Come on Espresso! You still have one more move to make, are you really gonna give up?” The encouragement was immediately followed by Whiskey’s clapping. “Come on Sis! Kick his face in!” More whoops and encouragement came from a few members in the stands, but Espresso paid them little mind. She focused on Dusk, who had turned his attention to the onlookers. The air of hollow apathy had come to rest back over his face.
Digging her heels in, Espresso started a shaky jog towards Dusk. She couldn’t raise a fist to defend herself, so she poured all of her attention into the vivid tapestry of information that her enhanced instincts gave her. She saw Dusk’s panic, the way his eyes shot to her legs as he tried to guess which angle she’d attack from, the way his left foot twitched ever so slightly as his weight shifted onto it. She had chosen her attack.
Once she stepped into range, she lifted her front knee high and channelled the lighting into her legs for a final time. They shot up in size, releasing a static hum. Dusk twisted his body, cutting on the outside of the knee, and a hope blossomed in Espresso’s chest. Prematurely planting her foot back onto the ground, she instead swung her back leg in a lightning fast, horizontal kick that swept through the line of Dusk’s dodge.
With only a brief moment to defend himself, Dusk dropped an elbow and lifted his nearest leg to check the kick. It wasn’t enough. The lightning flowed from Espresso’s leg into his blocking limbs, shocking them. A high-pitched shriek of electricity flooded the colosseum as the force of her enhanced kick sent him flying, too stunned to catch himself before his shoulder slammed into the ground and careened all the way into the wall of the colosseum.
Standing for a moment in pride, Espresso drank in the cheers that came from the trio of onlookers before strength left her legs and the pain of the electricity faded into a numb buzz. She collapsed. Prone on the ground, she could only twist her head to look at the falling woodchips and upset dust that veiled Dusk. Still, her heart soared.
Then, just as soon as the hope had blossomed in her, it sunk. Dusk walked out of the smoke, pulling his singed coat off of his body and tossing its smouldering remains to the ground. Her kick cut straight through it, even through the sleeve on his shirt and the part of his trousers that covered his thighs. Underneath the tattered clothes, Espresso saw thick, grey padding.
She recognised immediately the thin but durable bullet-proof armour, it was usually reserved for Silverwatch members that were acting in undercover operations, able to protect the body from low-yield ammunition without standing out from under a few layers of clothing. Her face twisted in confusion. Why was he wearing it here? Surrounded by allies?
Dusk paid no mind to his dishevelled state as walked towards the bleachers, fishing the handcuffs out of his pocket only to toss them onto the ground. He looked over to Ashara. “It’s a bit pointless to handcuff a woman who can’t move. Are you going to call the fight now? Or do you expect her to bite and claw her way into the Silverwatch?”
Ashara was evidently frustrated. Without turning his head, he spoke to one of the trio of onlookers that had come to watch the test. “Bronkheim, could you please escort Espresso to the medical office?” Turning to the onlookers, Nia’s eyes fell on a tall and broad, olive-skinned man. He wore a grey crew sweater and a red bomber jacket, both neatly and freshly ironed.
“Yeah, sure.” He nodded as he jogged down the bleachers, shaking the metal with each step from his massive frame. As he moved towards Espresso, he first slung her arm over his shoulder and helped her stand. After taking a step and realising the extent of her immobility, he paused for a moment.
“Miss Saint-Claire, may I lift you up on the way to the medical bay?”
Clenching her eyes shut in humiliation, Espresso nodded. Bronkheim scooped her legs and back up in both arms and nodded to Dusk, walking towards the exit. Whiskey quickly turned to Nia and gave her an encouraging punch on the shoulder, shooting an empty smile that did nothing to cloak her concern. “I’m gonna go check on her.” Without waiting for Nia’s reply, she turned and darted off towards the exit, following the giant and her sister in his wake.
Nia stood alone by the bleachers, watching the trio walk away. She had assumed that Dusk would win. Her experience fighting with Sil had shown her that three-star tuners were highly skilled warriors even when they had constructed Resonances that weren’t designed for combat. That said, the brutal efficiency that the man had demonstrated shook Nia to her core. Even in her most intense training matches, Sil had never gone as far as to attack her while she was on the ground. If she had to fight Dusk, what would she do differently? His kicks were heavy and fast, she’d have to watch out for them, but if she could just close the distance…
The palpable animosity in the arena, all of which fell on Dusk, roiled and reached a crescendo in a chorus of boos. From the stands, a woman shot up and started marching down into the pit. She wore a white shirt underneath a jacket and trousers, each a matching, royal blue. A small, white shoulder bag hung by her hip, resting in one hand. In the other, she carried an elegant, sheathed sabre. Its handle was crafted in the fashion of twining strands of ivy, with ornate, steel leaves forming the hand guard. Like her bag, its sheath was a pristine white, though silver etchings along its surface carried on the motif of crawling ivy. Nia couldn’t see her face from the angle, but her purposeful march towards Dusk told her all that she needed to know about the woman’s mood.
She stopped just shy of him as he carried on his walk, tapping her foot on the ground expectantly. He paid her no mind, passing her as he moved off to the bleachers. The woman turned as he strode by, clamping a hand on his shoulder. Her face was the picture of professional outrage. She had perfect features, as though she was carved from ice, sharp and cold.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed out, gripping a handful of his shirt at the shoulder. Dusk said nothing, his stance relaxed.
Waiting for his reply, her face switched from anger to a disgusted confusion. She shook him slightly. “Well? Are you even listening to me?”
Dusk swatted her hand off of his shoulder. “This is a combat test.” He emphasised the last word, straightening his posture and fixing the crease in his shirt. “If we aren’t going to test them, then what’s the point?”
The woman’s eyes widened for a moment before she collected herself. “Is that a test to you? Dusk? Ripping that poor girl’s confidence to shreds in front of her sister? In front of her potential colleagues? What standards do you want her to meet exactly? Are you just looking for candidates as miserable as you?”
Dusk turned away from her and kept walking, pausing once again when a single, high-pitched hum started floating through the air from around the woman. It was hauntingly beautiful, like a lonely opera singer.
As he faced the bleachers, Nia watched Dusk’s face fall from apathy back into annoyance. His voice dropped to a stern bedrock as he turned back to the woman. “If you want to coddle new recruits and watch while they get themselves killed, you know where to find to find Miss Saint-Claire. If you want to pick a fight with me over your upset sensibilities, at least have the decency to do it when we aren’t in the middle of a formal examination. Otherwise, piss off Charlotte.”
Nia let loose a nervous exhalation, she saw her breath misting in the air before her. Cold crawled in through her nose and ears. In the centre of the pit, she watched intently as snow started to billow forth from beneath the woman’s – Charlotte’s – feet.
Drawing her sword, Charlotte took a step towards Dusk. The man cocked a knee, preparing a heavy kick. Just before they could clash, Ashara called out from the stands. “Dusk, Charlotte, as much as this display of emotional maturity just warms my hear, we actually have a scheduled event that we’re in the middle of. Could you both do me a favour and either sit down or fuck off?”
He stood as he chastised the two, walking down the bleachers towards them. Dusk shrugged and pushed off, turning to walk towards Kaiser and his stuff. As he did, Ashara lurched forward and grabbed his collar, staring him in the eyes. “Don’t blow me off, Dusk. I’m being very nice right now in forgiving your little temper tantrum back there. Pack that shit in or you can forget about the deal you just asked me to make.”
The second Ashara grabbed him, Dusk’s eyes widened for a moment. Taking a few deep breaths, he silently nodded. Ashara took a moment longer to look into his eyes, before shaking his head. “I know what happened is still with you, but you can’t—”
“I know.” Dusk’s reply was instant and robotic, as though he had said it so many times that it required no thought. “Can you let go, Ashara? There’s a bit of blood on my shirt.” The two men looked down. The small pool of blood that had welled up after Espresso’s attack was rapidly growing into a large splotch that painted the man’s stomach a crimson red.
“Go get it cleaned up.” Ashara let go of Dusk with a sigh, muttering something that Nia struggled to parse about the ‘bloody children’ and his preference for the trenches.
As he turned once again, he locked eyes with the white-haired tuner. Charlotte paused for a beat, collected herself and turned to face Ashara. “I’m sorry for my outburst, sir –“
“Not sir, please don’t call me sir.” Ashara interrupted her.
“— Ashara. I should have voiced by upset more reasonably. I simply worry that Dusk is setting unfair expectations of people who are only seeking to claim their first star. It’s not like we’re expecting them to handle deadly, solo operations at this stage, this is ultimately a test of their aptitude for work accompanying watch members like Dusk and myself, who have the experience needed to properly prioritise things in the way that he was describing to miss Saint-Claire.” As she spoke, Nia spotted the badge on the outside of her rapier sheath. Another three-star tuner. There were three of them here today?
“That’s very reasonable, Charlotte, but its not Dusk’s decision whether or not Miss Saint-Claire gets her star today, its mine. Do you trust me to stick to my standards?”
“Yes, Ashara.” Charlotte nodded politely, shooting daggers at Dusk’s retreating form.”
“Good! Then we’re all happy.” Ashara wore a wide, sarcastic smile as he gestured to the seats behind him. “Please, feel free to encourage the next candidates as they get ready for their tests.”
Charlotte nodded and went to sit on the bleachers, sitting down amidst the thinning group that had come to watch. Nia wanted to study each of them, but before she could get a good look, Ashara spoke up again.
“Right, since Whiskey has gone to check on her sister, we’ll swap the order of matches. Helenia, are you ready to go?”
All eyes within the colosseum fell upon Nia. Turning to Ashara, she saw him toss his jacket onto the dirty wood, a healthy distance from the starting marks left by Dusk and Espresso. The pressure made it hard to breathe, even harder to swallow, impossible to hide the embarrassed heat that painted her face. Underneath the pressure, though there was a greater heat catching within Nia as she stood in the colosseum pit. Her heart was beating faster and faster, stoking the flames of excitement. Tossing her navy-blue jacket onto the bleachers, she fished the two combat knives out of the harnesses that she wore over her dark grey shirt.
“Yes, Sir. Ready when you are.”
“Again, its Ashara, not Sir.” He deadpanned, mock annoyance dancing over his face.
“Okay…” Standing at the ready mark, she flared her resonance to life. A choir of voices, mournful and reverent, echoed through the air around her. The doubt from the small group of onlookers turned to intense curiosity as they watched her swivel the knives into a reverse grip and raise her arms into a ready stance. Nia beamed a smile back to the living legend stood before her. “It’s Nia, not Helenia.”
