Skymint’s POV

  Another battle began today. The windows of our cells had been left open again for us to watch.

  I sat with the stem plant Carrie sent slithering into my cell, its leaves trembling with urgency.

  “Skymint, I can’t do this anymore,” she said. Her voice quivered, thin as frost on the cusp of melting. “I don’t want to get hauled into the arena ever again.”

  “Hold on,” I said, gripping the base of the stem. “We’ll get out of here.”

  “She has magic. If I tell her, she’ll be able to get us out of here.”

  I flinched. “No, no. You can’t do that. It won’t work, and it won’t do us any good.”

  “I’m her cousin, after all,” she whispered, as if that alone could rewrite the rules of this place. “I’m sure she would understand.”

  “Wait, don’t do it!” I hissed, panic rising in my chest.

  But the stem had already slithered from my fingers before I could tighten my grip. One squeeze and I might’ve crushed it. So I didn’t.

  I darted to the window, craning to see where it went. Carrie was sending the plant to Arie’s cell. To tell her.

  About Ellie.

  This is bad. Really bad.

  I closed my eyes, focusing my senses on the whisper of voices down the corridor.

  “Arie, I—I have something important to tell you,” Carrie said.

  “What was it?” Arie’s voice carried, cautious but open.

  Then—snap.

  The connection broke. A spear cut the stem in two, clean and final. A guard loomed, dark against the light, severing their communication.

  More guards followed. They opened Carrie’s cell. She screamed, kicked, fought. But it didn’t matter.

  They shot her with a cactus spine.

  Sedation.

  Arie’s head emerged from her window, her hair tousled, eyes narrowed with fury.

  “Where are y’all bringing her?!” she shouted.

  No answer.

  “Answer me!” Her voice cracked, threaded with something deeper than anger. Fear, perhaps. Guilt. Maybe even recognition.

  It felt like it held double meaning, as if asking what her cousin never got to say.

  They disappeared with Carrie.

  Arie and I looked at each other across the open air, a strange hush settling between us like smoke between ruins. Unspoken awkwardness tethered us.

  I hadn’t thought about what my doppelganger did, not since the Horse Racing Competition. But it never left me. Not really. Just lingered beneath the surface.

  I hoped I wasn’t looking at her with accusing eyes. I didn’t mean to. I knew about her dark half—well, that’s what she called it.

  I was skeptical. Always had been.

  But I cared about Arie.

  She slipped back into her cell without a word.

  And it left me cold.

  Not just because she might be upset with me, but because I knew her well enough to guess what she was doing now: silently blaming herself, questioning whether she was strong enough to change anything at all.

  Curse this arena. Curse Jamaico.

  Minutes passed. The crowd below had quieted after the last match, but the new combatant had arrived. It should’ve been Carrie.

  Where did they take her?

  Not to a healing center. They didn’t have those here. At least, not ones meant for mercy.

  Then I saw him.

  A beige-furred bear draped in silks—Pandust.

  As he walked and our gazes met, he gave me a sly smile. It felt like an insult. He stopped by Arie's cell.

  “Ice Princess,” he said smoothly, “if you may allow it, I’d be willing to tell you where they brought your cousin.”

  “What are you?” she asked.

  “A noble willing to help,” he answered. “Fear not. I’m not hoping for any exchange.”

  He paused, then added with a glint in his eye, “Unlike the others.”

  I only meant to escort Arie to the Fresha Kingdom. Just that. Just long enough to see her somewhere safe, and then I'd be done. But it all spiraled, twisted into something darker, and now I’m trying to undo a curse that was never meant for either of us.

  If I find a way to break the curse on her, the one linking our lives should vanish too according to the magic law.

  But then Pandust showed up.

  Why her? Why now?

  He could’ve come to me. We’re both bears, after all. Kinship should’ve drawn him in my direction. But instead, he circles her, like a favor dangled on a string.

  Manipulation. That’s what it smells like.

  Still... he can’t be like Skadar. Not another one. Maybe he is genuine. It’s been what, a week since I pulled her out of the Glacia Trench? And in that time, I got so attached, it started to feel like I was the only one she could lean on. The only one who should stand beside her.

  I need to calm down. Breathe.

  “Then tell me,” she replied.

  “She has been brought to Jamaico’s pyramid for a ritual,” he stated. “Mummification.”

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  The walls seemed to recoil around me. Cold snaked in through the cracks.

  “Why her? Why not me instead?” she asked, denial creeping into her voice. “Is there any way I could stop it?”

  “No. You’ll be handed over to Felipe. That’s why I’m here. I could knock out the guards and get you out of here later in the evening,” he offered.

  “You don’t have to do that if it’s only for me. I’ll stay here to rescue others,” she stated.

  “Okay, I’ll help start a party to get all the prisoners out of here,” he said, voice laced with sarcasm.

  “You’re just another scorpion in this kingdom, supporting this arena of watching death and suffering,” she said, unmoved. “What are you really here for?”

  “I just wanted you to be less terrified of your next battle by saying something scarier. That’s all.”

  And with that, he turned away from her, his shadow crossing into the window of my cell.

  “Thanks for stopping by during the race to check on me. I was annoyed by my failure to not acknowledge a fellow bear.”

  “That was nothing,” I replied, tension crackling beneath my voice. “Care to give some info? You’re a noble of this kingdom, so you must know something. Do you know who I will fight against?”

  “I can’t. I’m not allowed to tell anything about the arena to the prisoners.”

  “I don’t know if we’ll see each other again, but I’m sorry for you.”

  Then he left. Just like that. No more words. Just a vague apology lingering in the air like a bad omen.

  What is he apologizing for?

  That thought barely finished before I heard footsteps. Not his. Heavier. Metallic.

  Guards.

  They reached my cell first. I backed away instinctively. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another pair peeling open Arie’s door. My stomach twisted.

  “Why her too?” I asked, forcing the dread down my throat.

  “See it for yourself,” one of the guards snapped.

  It was him. The one who told Arie she was nothing. I wanted to lunge, bite, tear, maul—but iron bit into my wrists, held tight. Even my strength, my hardened skin, couldn’t shatter enchanted steel.

  Later. Maybe later I could tell her I kept the leaf bills. That we might bribe our way out. But not now. Not when Jamaico stood above us, his balcony level with our floor, a quiet predator watching from the shadows.

  They tied a dark cloth around my eyes, and my heartbeat began to climb. Every step downward was a countdown, and all I could think about was the irony of that guard’s parting words. See it for yourself.

  Cruel joke.

  But in a place like this, strange thoughts keep you sane.

  Are we going to fight each other?

  When we reached the room, they tore the blindfold from my face—and there she was. Arie.

  Her eyes widened. Mine did too. For a breathless second, we were statues, trapped in the same waking nightmare, summoned together like twin threads drawn to a curse.

  Between us stood the table. Two metal boxes now sat atop it, as still and ominous as coffins.

  Her gaze dropped, drifting to the floor as though it might open up and swallow her whole. That pale devastation in her eyes said everything. Pandust told her. About her cousin. About her fate. And maybe that was better—learning it now, like poison in a cup handed openly. Not like how I learned about my mother’s curse. A secret that bloomed too late, killing slowly. But the secret about Ellie? That’s a different beast. One I’m still trying to cage.

  Four guards encircled us. Far too many for just two prisoners. Or maybe I just didn’t want anyone else there. Not when we finally had a moment together—even like this.

  It wasn’t long before we were moved to the surface, the noise outside ringing in my ears.

  For a fleeting second, I considered signaling her. As soon as we bit our Magical Fruits, we could fight and escape before the storm struck. But Arie wouldn’t think of that. Not here. Not now. Not when the arena gate stood just beyond us. Even if we made it underground, it’d be suicide. Sunstarian soldiers would devour us like wolves in gold-plated armor.

  The gate yawned open. Light slashed across my eyes like a blade—too harsh, too sudden. Cheers crashed over us like a tidal wave. Then the herald’s voice followed, slick with theatrical glee:

  "We've got our Savior Polarman and the Ice Princess, who recently won their first match yesterday. Skymint Polarion of the Polarmen Islands and Arie Glaciouso from the Glacia Kingdom! Here's another hot battle that would make this morning interesting!"

  A mockery. That’s what it was.

  Now they knew. All of them. The two of us, together. Not warriors. Not enemies. Just characters in someone’s twisted spectacle. And me? The so-called savior? I was the worst kind of joke.

  They'd be asking: Why him? Why not a human?

  Because the Glaciouso family once enslaved my kind. Same as the Wolfmen. The only thread between our races was pain, and even that was severed when Felipe started his crusade for freedom.

  Sweat slipped down my brow. Just a few steps stood between Arie and me, and the heat pressed in like a hand on my neck. The sun painted her skin in hues of fire—orange, angry, blistering. My fur shielded my body from the burn, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t made for this furnace. I was freezing inside and still too hot to breathe.

  Then the other gate opened, and everything stopped.

  If I were Mr. Puffin, maybe I could pretend not to recognize the person standing there. But my vision was perfect—and right now, I wished it wasn’t.

  "With six victories, for sure he could take down these two out of a fairytale."

  Laughter spilled like oil across the stands.

  "Llanova of the Polarmen Islands!" the herald cried.

  My heart caved in. No. He wouldn’t. Would he?

  Just before the herald uttered, "Steel your souls," we bit into our Magical Fruits. Arie glanced at me, a silent tether pulling us together.

  "I'll take care of him," I said.

  She gave a quiet nod. There was trust etched into the stillness of her face, or maybe it was resignation.

  The roar of the crowd faded into a dull thrum, like distant thunder underwater. Everything else narrowed to one truth: Llanova. My best friend.

  The herald leapt out of the ring, and Llanova charged. His body became a blur of shadows. He slammed into me, and the sand ate us both. I rolled before he could pin me, rising on instinct, my eyes locked to his form.

  "Llanova, we don't have to fight—"

  A shadow-fist crashed into my ribs, knocking the breath from my throat.

  So that’s how it was going to be.

  I summoned ice from the earth, spires ripping free like the jagged breath of winter, and landed where he dodged. One shard pierced his shoulder. It should have mattered. It should have bled. But the darkness clinging to him swallowed the wound whole, like it belonged there.

  My shadow rippled. It dragged at my back, pulling with invisible weight. Like a tether. Behind me, I saw Llanova's hand manipulating it.

  "Why are you doing this?!" I shouted, half-choked with disbelief.

  "King Jamaico held my parents prisoner. If I don't survive this, I won’t be able to save them."

  "Are you sure he didn't kill them already?"

  "They’re watching me right now," he said. His voice was thinner than before. "And I don't want to hurt them by dying."

  A ball of darkness flared. I didn’t even see it fully until it slammed into my abdomen and hurled me backward, spine-first into the cold metal wall of the prison block.

  "But we’re friends," I breathed. The words barely crawled past my lips.

  "I know. And I thought you would sacrifice yourself for me. I'll lose them, Skymint. I've been longing for them—it’s my only chance to get them back."

  "You don’t have to kill me."

  “There’s no other way.”

  “How about Arie?”

  “Jamaico told me either you two survive or we do.”

  His voice darkened. “Resurrecting one person is easier than two.”

  As if that made it justified.

  Before the fury could rise in me, it found her first.

  Ice erupted across Llanova’s back, shards howling with cold vengeance, laced with a stillness more frightening than rage. He stumbled, the shadow cocoon flickering around him. More shards followed, faster now. Unforgiving. Each one felt like a silent scream. They shredded the darkness and exposed the cream-colored fur beneath.

  They were circling now—him and her. Sand stirred between them.

  But Arie didn’t look like Arie.

  Her eyes locked onto him with something I couldn’t name, something I didn’t want to name. There was no flinch, no hesitation, just a terrifying stillness.

  Another shard drove forward and buried itself in his torso like it belonged there.

  And then, just for a second, there was a twitch. A curve of her lips, so faint it could’ve been the wind.

  But I saw it.

  I saw it.

  My breath caught in my throat.

  That wasn’t her.

  It couldn’t be.

  Arie hesitates. She stumbles. She doesn’t smile—not even a flicker—when she’s hurting someone I love. She can be cold, yes, but not this cold. Not like this. Not to Llanova. Not in front of me.

  My mind spiraled. Was it Ellie?

  She once promised—no, threatened—that if I ever betrayed her, she’d make me watch everything unravel. She said our lives were bound now. If one dies, so does the other.

  Was this her plan? Was she slipping in again, taking the reins when the stakes got high?

  But there was no obvious change. No shift in voice. No break in form.

  I couldn't tell as there's no physical difference between the two; they share the same body after all.

  Still, I couldn’t forget the look in her eyes. That gleam—like light refracted through frost. I knew Arie. I had mapped her pain. Memorized her hesitation. And this… this wasn’t her.

  At least, I wanted to believe it wasn’t.

  Did I need to believe that?

  Because if this was Arie—if she was the one turning on Llanova like this—what did that make her?

  And what did that make me for not stopping her?

  But whatever part of her remained, something had shifted in her expression.

  And now I stood, spine aching, torn in half.

  Between the girl I wanted to save and the boy I couldn’t bear to lose.

  Between my own life and my best friend.