"The king's champion," Kael murmured under his breath.
Lyra had already suspected it. Either the radiant being who fell from the sky was the god of light himself… or the king's undefeated champion.
"He sure made a dramatic entry. Is that even allowed?" she whispered, leaning closer.
"It's a corrupt match," Kael replied in the same hushed tone.
"Corrupt? How—?"
The herald's voice thundered across the arena, cutting her off.
"Aye! A wild turn of fate, Solarians! House of Vealith is hereby disqualified from the arena games! And give your applause to our brilliant beam of pure light—Princess Ardelle Myrienne Aurelia Solaria, Princess of the Third Dawn, Keeper of the Solar Veil! The one who purged the creeping evil before it claimed a soul!"
Princess Ardelle waved gracefully from her seat, and the crowd cheered as if basking in her radiance.
"And now… the moment you have all been waiting for…"
The arena erupted again, a living storm of noise.
"…not the entrance we expected, but he descended like a deity of justice! He obliterated every trace of corruption and stands unshaken! The man you've all been praying to witness—the king's champion. The Undefeated Sun!"
The red-clad woman beside Kael shrieked with delight, jumping to her feet and waving a black flag—apparently abandoning her yellow one.
The roar of the arena vibrated in Lyra's ribs; she pressed a hand to her chest, breath hitching.
Kael noticed instantly and rested a palm on her back.
"Are you okay, Penny? If it's too loud, we can leave."
Leave?
Just as the king's champion was about to fight?
Lyra sat upright so quickly his hand slipped away. She shook her head hard. She hadn't risked sneaking into this arena just to flee at the climax.
Impossible.
Kael exhaled in relief. "You're… surprisingly into this. For a moment I thought you were possessed."
"Possessed?" Lyra laughed.
He gave a serious nod. "Hmm."
"I am anything but possessed," she muttered, returning her gaze to the sands below.
The king's champion stood tall with his hands akimbo—like a statue carved by some ancient sun-worshipping sculptor.
"You said the match was corrupt. How do you mean?" she asked, leaning closer so he could hear her over the crowd.
"The green beast was boosted," Kael explained. "Got power from a demon so it could take down Joana and climb the ranks."
Lyra listened silently. Kael was a fountain of information—something she had never been granted in the palace. Everyone else treated knowledge like treasure; she had always had to dig for scraps.
"Some fighters make pacts with demons to grow stronger," Kael continued. "Eventually they lose control or show abnormal strength, like the beast did. It's rare, but it happens."
So much happened in this empire… and she, magicless and isolated, remained the most clueless soul within it.
The herald's voice rose again, sharp and bright.
"People of Solaris! The match may have twisted off its path, but because of that… you have earned a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle! Behold our fearless serpent—Joana the Viper!"
The crowd cheered as Joana staggered forward, though her face was pale from the beast's earlier assault.
"And her opponent—your beloved, unshakable, undefeated king's champion!"
The arena roared even louder.
But Lyra saw Joana's trembling shoulders, the way she clutched her ribs. She raised a fist—not in readiness, but in surrender.
"Oh, looks like Joana is withdrawing from the fight!" the herald announced.
A storm of boos crashed over the arena.
"Weakling!"
"You're wasting my money!"
"Wretch!"
Lyra's chest tightened. They cursed her as if she owed them her life.
People force their dreams onto you… and when you can't carry them, they brand you a failure.
Joana limped away, leaving the king's champion alone.
Lyra studied him. A hundred questions burned beneath her ribs.
How did he become the king's champion?
Why did the people worship him?
She understood the appeal—partly. His entrance had been dramatic beyond belief, and his physique…
He was sculpted like a tale whispered at dawn: tall and lean, wrapped in black leather traced with gold. A single golden pauldron guarded his left shoulder. A dark brown sash draped at his waist. His trousers were fitted for swift movement, tucked into black boots. His arms bore metal bracers veined with faint gold.
But something was wrong.
Deeply wrong.
Lyra couldn't place it.... until he turned toward the royal stands and bowed.
As he rose and faced her section of the arena, something flickered in her vision—
His chest armor… became transparent.
Not fully. More like a shadow slid through her sight.
Something dark pulsed beneath it.
A dark flower.
Growing inside his heart.
Its petals. Like veins, woven through him.
Lyra's breath froze.
The champion's hand flew instinctively to the same spot on his chest. His gaze lifted—searching the stands, until his eyes collided with hers.
Lyra gasped, body jolting.
"Penny?" Kael called, alarmed.
"Penny!"
She blinked hard, the world rushing back into shape.
"Are you sick? Do you want to leave?" Kael asked, worry thick in his voice.
She didn't know why she was seeing such things. And she did feel sick now. Nauseous. Off-balance.
Ignoring his concern, she rose abruptly and slipped past the seated spectators.
She hurried down the stone steps toward the exit. The air felt too thick, too heavy.
Kael caught up and gently grabbed her wrist. "Penny, what's wrong? Is the noise making you weak?"
Frustration boiled over. She jerked her hand free.
"I'm fine."
His face crumpled, wounded by her tone.
"I just need to go home," she muttered, turning to leave.
"I'll take you," he insisted, stepping in front of her.
Lyra clenched her jaw. "I can manage."
"I insist. You might get lost again, Penny, let me take you home."
He reached for her hand, but she pulled back.
"Please," she said tightly, "let me be on my own."
"I don't think that's wise, considering your condi—"
She snapped.
"Look, you have to stop! I'm sure you've figured it out by now. I'm not your sister. Yet you keep acting like I am, and it's suspicious! Do you even have a sister? Do you let her breathe?"
Kael froze, shock washing over his features.
"You should go back," she said, voice trembling despite her anger. "Watch the champion fight. Maybe even place a bet. Or better—go look for your missing sister."
She pushed past him toward the gate… but guilt stabbed her mid-stride.
She spun back and ran to him.
"I'm sorry," she breathed. "But this appearance, this face, these clothes—they're not real. They're fictional. If I resemble your sister, I'm sorry for misleading you."
She stepped back, eyes soft with apology.
"Goodbye. And… good luck."
Before he could answer, she dashed into the street, slipping into the quiet corner where her hidden portal shimmered faintly.
Maybe once she got home… she could understand why she felt sick.
Why she could see that thorned flower pulsing in the champion's chest.
And why he looked at her—
as if the darkness blooming inside him recognized her