King Wonek pushed himself to his feet, wiping blood from his lip. Confusion and fury flashed across his face. Solace didn't give him time to process it.
She rushed in with a burst of speed she didn't know she possessed.
Their fists collided in the middle of the courtyard, a shockwave rippling through the space. Wonek staggered back, then grabbed a nearby tree by the trunk and tore it from the roots, dirt exploding around him.
He swung it at her.
Solace braced, condensing her body with pure instinct, planting her feet into the stone. The tree snapped in two against her forearms, shards spiraling through the air.
Wonek's eyes widened.
So did hers.
She didn't feel a thing.
There was no time to understand it.
He charged again.
Solace met him head-on.
He swung a wide arc with his forearm,fast enough to send a ripple through the air around them. Solace ducked under it and drove her knee toward his ribs. He caught it mid-strike and spun, hurling her across the courtyard. She hit the ground, rolled, and sprang up.
His eyes narrowed.
She should not have been able to get up that quickly.
She dashed forward again.
He lifted a slab of stone from the ground and threw it at her. Solace broke through it with both arms, but the moment she burst through the dust cloud, Wonek was already there, his fist colliding with her jaw.
Her head snapped sideways.
She stumbled.
But the pain flickered away before she even steadied her footing.
Wonek hesitated, only for a second.
Solace used it.
She lunged, slammed her shoulder into his torso, and forced him back two steps. He countered by grabbing her waist and hurling her into a wall hard enough to dent the stone.
Her breath caught.
Her ribs snapped.
Then re-formed.
Solace planted both hands against the cracked wall, using the momentum to push herself forward in a violent burst. She shot off the stone like a spring, smashing her forehead into Wonek's chin.
He recoiled, more surprised than hurt.
She followed immediately with a spinning kick toward his temple, but he blocked it with his forearm and shoved her away.
"Enough," he growled.
He punched her again, hard enough to rattle the courtyard pillars.
Her body flew backward.
She flipped midair, landed on all fours, and snarled as she launched herself back at him.
This time Wonek twisted, grabbed her by the arm, and slammed her into the ground. The stone cratered beneath her.
She did not stay down.
She rolled, pivoted, and swept his legs. He hit the floor but kipped up immediately, catching her incoming strike and twisting her wrist.
She hissed, but the bone reset instantly.
Wonek's eyes widened again, fear creeping in beneath the anger.
"You're not fighting like yourself," he said, his breath roughening.
"I don't know what I'm doing," Solace snapped, "but it's working."
She charged.
He met her in the middle.
Their blows became a rhythm—her fists, his elbows, her knees, his palms—each strike strong enough to rattle the courtyard walls.
Solace held her own.
Wonek overpowered her only in bursts.
The fight was even.
But not winnable.
Every time she pressed forward, he countered.
Every time she broke free, he adapted.
Every time she healed, he escalated.
Their bodies blurred through the courtyard, neither one gaining ground for long, both skidding, striking, and slamming into stone again and again.
Solace spat blood, wiped her mouth, and squared herself.
"Come on," she muttered. "I'm not done."
Wonek set his stance, jaw clenched, breath harsh.
"No," he said. "You aren't."
He rushed her again, and the fight raged on.
Arlenna crossed both blades just in time to catch the Perceptive King's strike, the impact jolting through her arms. He flowed around her like water.
"You are tiring," he observed.
She didn't waste breath answering.
He moved first, clean and anticipatory. His footwork cut off her escape before she attempted it. He slipped around her guard, his palm grazing her shoulder to redirect her balance.
Arlenna spun with the motion, letting it carry her into a low slash with her left blade. He leaned away effortlessly, already dodging the follow-up from her right.
His precision was suffocating.
She had to break the pattern.
Arlenna feinted high with her right sword, then let her left blade drop entirely. She released it on purpose, forcing him to adjust to the wrong threat. As his senses shifted toward the falling steel, she drove forward and slammed her shoulder into his ribs.
It barely moved him.
But it moved him.
A small win.
He caught her wrist the moment she reached for the dropped blade. She twisted, kicked the sword up with her foot, and snatched it midair as she backflipped out of his grip.
The Perceptive King paused, faintly surprised.
"Adaptive," he murmured.
Arlenna exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling in hard, uneven breaths. Sweat dripped from her jaw. Her grip trembled around both hilts.
"You cannot maintain this."
"Don't have to," she said.
She rushed him, blades flashing in an uneven rhythm—right, left, pause, left, right—jagged enough to fracture his predictions. He blocked most of it, but her right-hand strike clipped his jaw, drawing a thin line of blood.
He blinked, genuinely surprised.
Arlenna's knees buckled for a moment. She caught herself with one blade pressed against the ground.
"Come on," she rasped. "Round two."
For the first time, the Perceptive King lifted both hands in a real fighting stance.
He no longer saw her as predictable.
Or ignorable.
Just dangerous.
Thiago slammed forward with his axe raised, but the Fearsome King's aura hit him first, a pressure like a hand closing around his throat.
Back down.
You will lose.
Stop.
Thiago snarled through it and swung anyway.
The Fearsome King sidestepped and drove a palm into Thiago's ribs. The hit lifted him off his feet. Thiago rolled, came up on one knee, and switched weapons mid-rise, dragging a short blade from his belt.
He charged again.
The aura thickened, clawing into his instincts. His steps faltered for a breath. The Fearsome King moved in, ready to finish it.
Thiago faked a stumble, then exploded upward, smashing his forehead into the man's face.
The aura snapped for a second.
Thiago grinned. "Thought so."
He followed with a knee to the gut and a slash across the King's forearm. The Fearsome King caught the second blade with his bare hand, twisted, and nearly tore it from Thiago's grip.
Thiago let go, dropped low, grabbed his spear from the ground, and drove the butt of it into the King's temple in one vicious motion.
The Fearsome King staggered.
Only for a moment.
Then his aura surged back, heavier and darker, trying to crush Thiago into stillness.
Thiago planted both feet, bracing against the invisible weight.
"Not stopping," he growled. "Not today."
He swung the spear in a tight arc, forcing the Fearsome King back.
The fight stayed brutal, close, and violent.
Thiago could not overpower him.
But he refused to be broken.
Thiago planted his heel, tightening his grip on the axe.
"Not today."
He charged.
Solace and Wonek collided again, their fists a blur.
He tore a chunk of stone from the ground and hurled it at her.
She punched straight through it.
He growled, grabbed her by the arm, spun, and threw her across the courtyard.
Solace hit a column hard enough to crack it from base to top. She expected pain. She expected the snap of bone and the breath leaving her lungs.
None of it came.
Her body absorbed the blow, ribs shuddering, then settling perfectly back into place.
Solace blinked, stunned.
Why didn't that hurt?
Why didn't anything hurt?
Her hand pressed against the cracked column, steady and unbroken. As she turned her head, she caught movement in the corner of her eye.
A woman.
Trying to hide behind a broken pillar.
Flinching.
Backing away.
Watching the fight with terror and guilt tangled across her face.
Solace's mind snapped back to a blurred memory.
A small woman with calm eyes.
A shimmer of healing light rising from her chest.
No hands.
No pressure.
Only warmth and relief from a distance.
Solace's eyes widened.
It was her.
The mendor.
The one who kept pulling her back from death.
The reason she was still standing.
Solace did not hesitate.
She dashed toward the woman, closing the distance in seconds.
"You," Solace said, breath sharp. "It was you. You have been healing me."
The woman flinched, eyes shifting toward Nick at the far end of the courtyard as if terrified he might notice her.
"Why are you helping me?" Solace demanded. "I do not even know your name."
The woman swallowed hard. Her voice shook.
"Those chains," she whispered, "were not just used on people who passed through here."
Solace's stomach dropped.
The woman stepped out from behind the pillar, trembling but determined.
"My name is Audree," she said quietly. "Nick took me too. He just liked me too much to let me go."
Her voice tightened.
"And I will not let him hurt anyone else."