The daylight spilled into my cell, lightening the dark metal walls a bit. I'd slept without eating dinner yesterday. But the dish was gone now, and there was a stain on the wall that hadn't been there before. I leaned in close to inspect it and realized they were letters.

  My heartbeat slammed in my chest. The words were:

  Good luck in the fight. I've seen what you could do.

  Who wrote this? Why were they so confident? Were they a seer?

  I touched the ink and left a mark on my finger, then smelled it. Squid. The dinner food for the prisoners. Whoever wrote this must be a prisoner too, but there's no way they could have entered my cell. I would've heard them while I was asleep.

  That leaves one guess: someone here might possess Dreamer's Magic and cast a spell to write on my wall using the squid ink.

  But why would they send a message to me?

  The mystery gnawed at me.

  The small window frame on my cell door scraped open with a loud metal screech. A gloved hand slid a wooden tray onto the ledge, not saying a word. Bread. Soup. A single boiled egg, perhaps boiled in the sun. The sun here in Sunstar Kingdom is enough to boil an egg.

  I leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the guard's face. It was blank, stone-like, eyes avoiding mine. Before I could say anything, the frame slammed shut. Locked.

  No way to talk to Carrie now. The slit above my cell was too narrow for her stem plant to pass through. If it even tried, it would tear the flower head apart. And without the flower, our voices couldn't travel.

  I stared at the plate, but my eyes drifted to the wall again. The smeared squid-ink message still stained the metal faintly, even after I tried rubbing it off with my sleeve.

  "I've seen what you could do."

  The person who wrote it seems creepy, as unsettling as this prison. Maybe even creepier than King Jamaico. It's possible he wrote it there to drive me insane. Asked a sorcerer to do it for him. Or maybe I'm just paranoid and this isn't real. That I'm still asleep with the fairy's sleeping powder.

  But everything is too real to dismiss this harsh reality: the scorching heat before I was brought to this cell, the intense battles I've seen in the arena, and my dread of what's to come.

  My stomach churned. I decided to eat the sunny egg. Starving to death felt just as horrible as the thought of fighting a fellow human. I'm not even sure which fate I dread more.

  But I'm pretty sure hurting others is a huge violation to myself. I would never do that unless I have a reason to do so.

  It won't be long before I'm placed in the arena myself. If yesterday's order of battles was a routine, then the first fight must be between two bear races. If I'm correct, Skymint would be the first one to fight.

  A couple of minutes later, I had emptied my plate. I'm still wondering where the plate from yesterday went. It really felt strange.

  The frame suddenly opened, and the arena came into view again. The canvas of palettes of elemental abilities and streaks of red. I felt relief. I wasn't released to the waiting area, which I assumed was where they prepared the gladiators, and there was no sound of releasing a prisoner on this floor.

  The herald descended onto the center of the scorched sand.

  "Good morning, Sunstarians! Today, we begin with the forgotten and the captured, thanks to our glorious coliseum!" The herald roared.

  "He's still standing after all these years, a retired royal knight from Glacia… Caron Carleton!"

  "No kingdom to return to, and now he's ours. Too bad he was caught on the way somewhere."

  Laughter erupted around me. Cruel. Loud. It grated against my ears.

  My heart ached.

  I knew this man. Caron. A steady figure in the chaos of my childhood. After my mother vanished, it was he who kept watch over me, who made me laugh when I was lonely. He even tried to bridge the distance with Dorsey when she began pulling away from me.

  He brought me little gifts, and he was always searching for a decent fruit cube, just because I wanted one. I used to beg him for it every time we met. He promised he'd find the right one someday and bring it to me. But he left too soon. I never found out why he retired. I missed him, just as much as I missed my mother.

  For two years I was miserable. My brother busy with his own friends, my father lost in the kingdom's burdens. I couldn't even leave the gates without a guard shadowing me. Only when childhood ended did I get a taste of freedom… and friends.

  I didn't know if I could watch this battle. Maybe it would just hurt more.

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  What would Caron think when he saw me later in the arena… if he was still alive?

  No, he would be alive. He had to be. There's a reason he once protected our royal family. I'd bring him with me when we escaped. I'd make sure of it.

  I focused on the scorched sand. Caron stood tall, broad-shouldered and composed. His silver eyes burned beneath the sunlight, his dark steel-blue hair streaked with sweat.

  I didn't catch the name of his opponent, only the scars: a seasoned warrior, another Sunstarian who'd turned traitor. The crowd jeered at him with smug detachment.

  "Steel your souls! Let the flames of battle begin!" The herald bellowed, leaping into the air. A gust of dust followed in his wake.

  Caron summoned his Magical Fruit: the Cool Coconut, as he always called it. A drupe-type fruit. Its passive ability granted him enhanced speed.

  The enemy raised a glowing berry. A sand-elemental fruit, beige aura swirling around it. A stamina boost. Just like mine.

  They bit into their fruits. The magic vanished into them. Then they moved.

  Sand exploded into the air as the warrior struck first, flinging blinding grit. I squinted as Caron froze the particles midair, halting the blast. In a blur, he circled behind the warrior and flung him across the sand, freezing his limbs to the ground.

  Disappointed murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  Then, the sand stirred.

  The enemy vanished, slipping beneath the surface. Caron reacted instantly. He leapt back and rained frozen spikes onto the shifting terrain. When he landed, a pair of hands shot up from beneath, yanking his legs into the sand's depths.

  Caron used Ice Foot to escape, cold erupting from his soles as he skated across the arena, layering the ground in sheets of ice.

  The warrior burst from the last patch of desert, wielding a tidal wave of sand.

  A sand tsunami.

  It crashed down.

  Caron disappeared beneath the crushing wave. A brutal figure emerged, fists flying. Blows pounded him again and again. Each one louder, harder. Blood seeped through the dunes.

  I looked away. I couldn't breathe.

  How am I supposed to survive in the arena if I can't even watch someone I care about suffer?

  A green stem curled through the window of my cell. I reached for it, fingers trembling. A flower bloomed at the end, and Carrie's voice floated through.

  "Arie, you okay?"

  I didn't respond. Not right away.

  "I haven't forgotten your knight. I know he means a lot to you." She said gently. "I'm sure he'll win."

  That's what I believed before. Before the sand drowned him. Before the blood.

  I should have stopped my brother's plan during the palace party. But I didn't.

  "I didn't expect to see him here." I finally said. "I'm so unfortunate, Carrie. I keep losing the people I love."

  "No, you don't. You haven't lost him yet." Her voice was soft but firm. "There's always hope in everything. I know you still believe that."

  She was right. I hadn't completely given up.

  "Let's bring him with us when we escape." I said, voice steadier now.

  "Then promise me something." She replied. "Promise me you'll survive until the end."

  "I will." I said, clutching the flower. "We'll survive together."

  I looked back at the arena, just in time to see a blast of ice slam into the warrior's chest. His body flew several meters through the air, landing hard in the sand.

  Caron rose from the dust, patches of beige coating his skin and clothes, and sprinted toward the fallen warrior.

  He didn't attack. Not right away. Caron never struck those who couldn't stand on their own.

  But the warrior wasn't finished. He shattered the silence with a roar, summoning a sudden, vicious sandstorm. Wind whipped around the arena, brittle grains scraping my face. I shut my eyes before it blinded me. Just before my lids closed, I saw Carrie's plant stem retract, either back to her cell or into Skymint's.

  The storm howled. I heard ice crackle in the air. Caron, still fighting. I coughed, sand burning in my throat. When I blinked my eyes open, the sky was a swirling blur of brown, the ground rumbling with elemental fury. Wind-fruit masters could summon storms, sure, but a sand-fruit master could thicken every particle, turning the air to razors.

  The storm only grew worse.

  The sandstorm grew thicker and thicker. I bet the Sunstarians hated storms like this, so was this one an exception? Just for the thrill of watching a fight to the death?

  "End this pathetic fight already, or I'll kill both of you!" King Jamaico shouted, his voice thick with annoyance.

  Through the blinding storm, I could barely make out their silhouettes. One stood with an arm raised, the warrior. The other, Caron, was still, his hands stretched low to the ground. Then he stepped back and drove a long spear of ice upward.

  It pierced through the chaos.

  When the storm finally settled, the sand cleared, and I saw it.

  Just as the sandstorm faded, I could finally see the warrior's corpse, hooked through the drenched ice, its pointed end jutting from his back.

  He was dead. Just like that. One strike, one choice, and it was over.

  "Caron Carleton wins, acquiring his first victory!" The herald announced.

  I should have been relieved that the retired royal knight I knew survived this battle, but I couldn't bring myself to feel anything. I had watched a man die, watched ice burst through his spine as if he'd never been real. I should have felt sick. I should have looked away. But I didn't.

  When a fruit master dies, their fruit cube vanishes and returns to its original habitat. So for anyone out there searching for a Magical Fruit, they might stumble across it now. I focused on that thought instead, anything to stop myself from replaying the fight in my head.

  There was nothing I could do about it. Not yet. Unless I could get everyone out of this prison. But that felt impossible, especially when a Dreamer's Magic user lived somewhere in this kingdom. Even this well-ventilated cell was one of their spells.

  Suddenly, I heard the clang of metal echo across the floor. I peeked my head out and saw the guards pulling a prisoner from his cell.

  My heart pounded. Skymint.

  He turned, and our eyes met.

  "Skymint!" I called out, not thinking.

  The guards glanced my way, their expressions startled. None of them were the ones who usually patrolled my cell. These faces were unfamiliar.

  "I'll be alright." He said, voice calm.

  A guard yanked his arm, but he turned back briefly, hesitating, maybe hoping we could speak more. Then, wordlessly, they led him down the stairs.

  But his words didn't convince me. What if his opponent is stronger? What if it's someone he knows, Llanova? My thoughts spiraled, every second stretching endlessly. I began pacing my cell. My nerves were tight, and the cold didn't feel cold anymore. I didn't know if I should watch or if doing so would break me further.

  Eventually, I collapsed onto the metal floor, worn out.

  The arena was still empty. Only blood splatters marked the sand, the stadium still filled with cheering strangers. From somewhere deep within the prison, I thought I heard a sob or a laugh. I couldn't tell. Maybe both. Maybe neither.

  For a moment, I thought I saw King Jamaico glance my way. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement, as if to say, this fight will unravel you. Like he knew I'd be next.

  I glared back at him.

  He turned away just as the herald landed at the center of the scorched arena floor.