26. Hull - The Gods' Game (Patreon)

Chapter 26

The Gods’ Game

I had my Hammer hefted and ready to bash the stupid right off Gerad’s face when suddenly it vanished out of my hand, my summons disappeared, and the full weight of my deck slammed itself back into my Mind Home. I grunted and staggered, my vision going white. It felt like I’d just had a building dropped on me, and I couldn’t figure out what had just happened. Had the Prince blindsided me somehow? He’d already lost, but a cheating piece of shit like him wouldn’t let that stand in his way.

When my vision cleared, though, everything was still white, and the hazy world of the duel beyond the whiteness had ground to a halt. Gerad stood maybe twenty feet away from me, no longer looking as if he was ready to kill me but instead focused on something right in front of himself that I couldn’t see. Everything was eerily silent.

“Hello?” I ventured. My voice sounded flat and close, as if I were closed inside a box. “Hey shithead, what is this?”

Gerad never even glanced in my direction, and I got the feeling he couldn’t hear me. He looked intent, focused. Whatever this was, he wasn’t confused. AS I thought about it, I didn’t think he was responsible for this whatever-it-was. He’d been hell-bent on attacking me; he wouldn’t have stopped in the middle to set up something else.

A tickle at the back of my mind brought back a vague recollection that Edaine had said something once about a poth-thingy where Fate and Fortune singled out people and put them in a duel – was that what this was? I looked around, but I didn’t see any big scary god-looking people hanging out in the whiteness.

Suddenly a card hung in the air in front of me, hanging in the air close enough to my face to make me flinch. It didn’t do anything, though; it just dangled there looking innocent. It was at the perfect distance to read it clearly. When I saw the title, my eyebrows did their best to climb into my hairline.

A shiver went down my spine. Well, that solved the question of what was happening. With my own name up top and two shining figures pictured on their thrones, this was definitely the gods’ version of a tournament duel. My mind boggled for a bare moment. Fate and Fortune were really real? I’d always believed in them in a casual sort of way – cards had to come from somewhere, didn’t they? – but to see them painted on a card, to be swept up into a private box match for their enjoyment… that was something else entirely. I – me, a gutter kid – was going to fight with the gods’ eyes on me. I tried to imagine the version of me from six months past catching sight of me now and couldn’t quite make sense of all the changes.

The card was like none I’d ever seen. Its colors didn’t match any source I knew, and its border flickered and hazed from black to clear to white and beyond in a subtle, sickening way that made my eyes water. The text at the bottom scrolled as I read, giving a far longer message than any real card ever could.

The eye of the Twins has fallen upon you, and your combat pleases them. If you proceed, you may gain their approval and grace. The gifts given to those who perform well are beyond what you are used to. The ante cards chosen will not pass to the winner as usual; instead, at the moderate level of exposure to the Twins’ presence granted for this encounter, the very characteristics of the cards themselves will be transferred. The winner’s ante card will be elevated by the gods themselves, reaching power levels in a single advancement that no mortal smith could attain, while the loser’s card will be similarly demoted but remain in his possession. The cards in question have been chosen, and to entice you, the Twins will allow you to see what may become of your ante card should you win. 

The picture of the Twins on their heavenly thrones faded and morphed into the image of a card I knew well, which then gradually shifted into a new, enticing version of itself.

“Twins take me,” I whispered. Forget making the big guy smaller, this was what I wanted him to be. Overkill on a demon of that size and power? Just the thought of it made me want to giggle.

The words on the card had halted momentarily while I drank in the beauty of what my Mythic Night Terror could be, but soon they started marching across the card again.

Thus do Fate and Fortune bless those who please them and show mercy to those who fail in their presence. Do not be deceived by the familiar format of this combat; you can be harmed and even killed. Knowing all this, the gods grant you the choice: will you enliven their eternity with your performance? Accept and you may hasten your elevation to the heights of mortality. Refuse and they will allow you to depart in shame, but unharmed. Make your choice.

The final sentence pulsed with light, and all others faded until only those three words remained in the text box.

There was no choice to be made. “I accept,” I said as formally as I knew how.

Nothing happened. Gerad, who was now watching me with contempt, said something nasty I couldn’t hear – not a peep came from him, despite standing in clear view with seemingly nothing between us – and then he pantomimed grabbing the card and putting it into his Mind Home.

I hated to do anything he wanted me to, but on this one point we were in agreement: it was time for us to fight. No end-of-match safety gave me a moment’s pause, but the thought of slinking away from Gerad again, like I’d done at the end of his idiotic Flinch Test – that he’d cheated on – was unbearable. No, I had to face him, come what may. Fortune’s balls, I had a full deck now, didn’t I? I could take him.

I took the card and pressed it behind my ear. Instead of sliding into my Mind Home like I was accustomed to, though, the card faded into nothing, and in an instant everything around us changed. The whiteness cutting us off from the rest of the world reshaped itself into grandstands on all sides, and the sounds and jollity of a festival day filled the air. It all hung in mid-air, laid somehow over the top of the real world, occupying the same space as the training field and even overlapping with the outer wall of our fortification. The seats were tiered, with a gallery above and cheap seats below. Most of the faces were ghostly and transparent, despite looking like average folks one might see on the street if not for some strange clothing and the fact that I could see through them if I looked too hard. Here and there were faces I recognized, though – there was Harganut up above, and over to the east was Afi and one of the paladins, and even Edaine, looking fiercely proud and utterly focused on our dueling box in the center of the arena. I looked hard, but I couldn’t catch sight of Basil – there were just too many faces. Wherever he was sitting, I was sure that his face would look as baffled as I felt by this whole thing.

“You’re not fighting anyone out there,” Gerad said from behind. “Look to me, bastard.”

I did, and there was just as much hate in his eyes as there had been before. “Before I beat the shit out of you,” I said, “I’d really like to know what your problem is. I mean, look, I hate you plenty, but if you’d quit bothering me I’d never waste another thought on you. Are you really so obsessed with me?”

“Yes,” he said, voice icy. “The very fact that you exist offends the Order of this city.”

“Order,” I scoffed. “For somebody that can roll out the full 10 Order source, you’re awfully calm about things like cheating and spying. Shouldn’t you be crying over every speck of dirt and keeping your fork at the perfect angle when you eat? You’re fine with disorder so long as it suits your own purposes.”

He shrugged idly, but his hands were clenched as if he wished he were still gripping that monster sword of his. “I’ll not explain the intricacies of Order to a boy who sleeps in shit and eats garbage.”

“One of us is full of shit, no question,” I said, “but it’s not me.”

A card flew from behind my ear and was magnified overhead; I knew without looking it would be the Night Terror. Gerad’s was news to me, though, and I shivered as I looked at it, hoping I wouldn’t have to face it in the ring.

The thought of knocking Hilbrand down to a shit-tier Epic while my own card shot up to the heights of Mythic sounded pretty damn good to me. All I had to do was win.

A disembodied voice rang out over the ghostly arena. “You who have been invited to the Game of the Gods, bear witness. These two souls have trothed themselves to combat before the divine. Be the eyes of Fate and the voice of Fortune, and worship them with your cheers and cries. You live by their sufferance, you are elevated by their grace. With holy hearts and joyful tongue, praise the Twins with this combat. So be it, so be it, so be it.”

I echoed the three words along with everyone else, the crowd both living and ghostly thundering along, and for the briefest moment I thought I caught sight of a shining tower standing above the upper tier of seats, with two unbearable spots of brightness at the top. It was gone before I even knew it was there, though, and I felt my Mind Home loosen.

It was time. I’d have to worry about the rest later, if I was still alive. I drew cards as fast as I could. I assumed the Twins would hold us to the same even-turn timing that the Dueling Dome did, but I hurried anyway, just in case I was wrong. 4 cards from the Mind Home and 1 source just as I’d always done in the dueling ring. I was amazed at how quickly I fell back into the rhythm of it after all these weeks of presummoned fights.

My cards were shit, so I mulliganed 3 of them, only keeping my Ravening Hatchling. Gerad wins with big souls and big hand sizes. I need to whittle him down fast and keep him on the back foot. My second draw was marginally better, netting me the Root Imp, a Marauder, and the Night Terror, but my preferred openers of the Hammer, the Talisman of Spite, and the Sucking Void were nowhere to be seen. “Fortune, if I ever offended you, I’m sorry,” I muttered. “Throw me some better cards, will you?”

Gerad looked smugly confident as the opening gambit played out. His Order was slower than my Nether, as usual, so I got the first play. My turn one draws got me a Ghastly Gremlin and the Sucking Void, and my heart eased ever so slightly. Maybe Fortune heard me. Did I really see them up there? 

My turn one play was obvious, and I didn’t hesitate. Devoting my single Nether, I let the summons flow from me.

It might have been nice to play the combo while I had the Talisman equipped, but I didn’t have it in hand and wouldn’t have had the source for it even if I did. No regrets, no second guessing. Just hit him hard. “Go,” I told the pair of souls, who eagerly leapt forward. 5 points of damage right out of the gate felt pretty damn good.

Gerad saw them coming, and with a snarl cast a pair of cards out of hand to block them. I squinted at the shards and was glad to see that the Twins’ combat arena let me see the discards just like the Dueling Dome would have. Realizing that my glass eyepatch was pointless for the moment, I pulled it down around my neck, reveling in the feel of fresh air on the eye that had been covered.

“What was that about killing me?” I called over to him.

“It stands,” he barked back. “Enjoy your cheap shots while you can.”

My Ghastly Gremlin exploded into shards, its Expire activating. The Root Imp landed on the ground, panting and exhausted. I put on an innocent smile. “Should the prince who knifed a poor kid in the back during a Flinch Test really be talking about cheap shots?” I said.

His eyes darted to the crowd, but the same half-muting that the Dueling Dome gave seemed to hold here too. He didn’t want anyone to hear about that little episode, and I made a mental note to bring it up more often.

He obviously wanted to have the last word, but his mouth worked and nothing came out. I laughed, and his face darkened. He couldn’t think of anything. He put up a second Order and devoted both, choosing to answer with cards instead. When I saw it, I wished he’d stuck to insults.

Getting a Paladin on turn one was deadly. Sure enough, a third Order appeared over his head. My Root Imp was helpless, and so was I. I braced for the attack, but the moment passed and the Paladin held firm. Gerad was holding him in reserve, choosing not to leave him devoted like I’d done with the Root Imp. I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d worried he was going to pick off the Root Imp. I realized with a start that I could have prevented him from doing so with the Intervene ability on my new personal soul card, but without a weapon in hand that would have been a pretty desperate move anyway. Best that I hadn’t needed to make that call just yet.

My next draws were one of the new Bog Imps and another Nether, the second of which I put overhead, cursing softly to myself. The Imp was a handy draw, but what I really needed was my Hammer. Even with that Paladin standing in the way, I felt sure I’d never get the better of this asshole and his top-of-the-line deck unless I was pounding him mercilessly every turn. I settled for bringing out the Bog Imp.

The Imp scratched at me as it appeared, and I flicked the Ravening Hatchling out of hand to soak up the damage, knowing I’d get it back at the end of the turn.

Again, I itched to send the Imp after him, but it didn’t make any sense to do so. The waiting Paladin would eat it for lunch, taking only a single point of damage, and then I’d be left wide open. Grinding my teeth, I let my attack window pass. 

Gerad pulled two cards, grinned broadly, and put up two more source – damn that Paladin – one of which was his glowing special source that gave off extra each turn. Turn two, and the son of a bitch had five source overhead. He breathed deep and flexed, and light burst out of his eyes, mouth, and fingertips. I smelled freshly ground wheat and the summery scent of grass.

I gaped as an absolute flood of cards appeared in his hand. That had been a source explosion! The stands were cheering wildly. Edaine had explained the process of how to source explode, and I’d attempted it a time or two in private, but I was still learning to recognize when it happened in real life, and I’d never had a chance to use it in a real fight myself. It was impressive to see.

With a flash of fear I realized I was in big trouble. Gerad having a big hand was very, very bad for me, and he had a truly stupid amount of source available given how early in the game we were. He focused his special source and devoted the remaining available.

The burst of light from the Spell was sucked into the clear glass of the Orb, leaving it shining brightly, but Gerad immediately grabbed the floating Relic and shook it hard, releasing the Spell again. All of his source sprang back to ready, glimmering pearlescent. Ah, shit. He’d just doubled the amount of source he could use every other turn. “In trouble” might not cover the mess I was in.

More source dimmed – lots more – and another Soul misted into being.

My heart sank. The Legendary assassin. Basil and I had worked so hard to get her off the field, and here she was again, ready to ruin my day. I’d have a much harder time facing her on my own. Kitsanya lurked in the background, and Gerad pointed a finger, sending the Paladin toward me. 

I dithered, knowing that Kitsanya could pick off the Bog Imp the second I sent it in to block, but the only other option was doing nothing… and then her killing it anyway. With a growl, I ordered the Imp into blocking position. I was surprised when the clash actually happened without the assassin intervening. Apparently Gerad didn’t want to risk focusing her just yet. My Imp disappeared into shards, doing only minor damage to the Paladin.

Breathing deep, I pulled another source and a single card. The Talisman landed in my hand, and I shook my head at it. I wanted it equipped, but if I did so now, Kitsanya would destroy it instantly. I needed to wait until she was otherwise focused either from using her Soul-destroying ability or from attacking before I summoned the Talisman. Up went my third Nether while I considered my best move. I could summon the Night Terror and focus Kitsanya, but the last-to-first nature of instantaneous abilities meant she’d respond by focusing to destroy it instead. That would just bring her one step closer to demolishing me. Beyond her obvious power level – which was insane all on its own – the real problem with Kitsanya was that she acted like a bottleneck. The Sucking Void was right there in my hand, but using it felt premature with so many cards still in my deck. Better to sacrifice my Marauder than the Night Terror. At least that way I wouldn’t take the end-of-turn damage from it.

Making the best of poor choices, I devoted twp Nether to bring out my Marauder. “Go get ‘em,” I said, sounding a little less hopeful than I might have liked. I was sending the thing in for a certain death, and there was nothing to be done but go for it.

With a smug smirk, Gerad whispered to Kitsanya and focused his sources. She leapt into action, knives flashing as they sunk into my still-recovering Root Imp. It squawked and shattered.

I blinked, confused. Why did he do that? Gerad stood exposed, casually confident as the Marauder rushed him. Gerad took the hit, tossing a card from hand to intercept the demon. When the card shattered, the motes of light turned into mist, and a Soul appeared out of the vapor.

“Twins twist my balls,” I whispered, heart sinking. I’d played right into his hand. I’d helped him summon one of his most powerful Souls, and now, to top it all off, my own demon was going to hit me for 3 damage when I’d thought for certain it’d be dead.

I still had source remaining. As the Marauder loped back toward me, I hastily summoned the Sucking Void.

It was too soon, but I wasn’t sure that I would have a later if I didn’t use the Spell now. The starlight covering settled on me right before the demon raked me with its claws.

“No more mouthy comments?” Gerad said, hate painting his face. “Open that filthy mouth of yours so I can fill it with steel.”

Truth was that I didn’t have any mouthy comments left. I kept my lips shut and tried to pretend it was dignity, but the pit of my stomach was growing cold. This sneering boy had a deck bursting with Epics, Mythics, and a full complement of Legendaries, and here I was thinking I was hot shit with my trio of Epics and nothing more. I was playing with Commons, for Fate’s sake, and two of those I’d only just secured a few days before. What was I thinking, to accept a duel with the heir to the throne? I’d been so full of my success in the Lows and forming a new soul card that I’d blinded myself to the stark reality of the situation: I couldn’t win. I knew it in my bones.

“Hunker behind your little Spell while you can,” Gerad called, sneering. “If you want to prolong your own torture, I’ll gladly spend the time making it as painful and humiliating as possible.” With a snap of his fingers, he sent Hilbrand to Hunt my focused Marauder, shattering it instantly. My spirits sunk even lower than they had been when I saw that Hilbrand hadn’t taken so much as a scratch – his Fast Attack made him damn tough. Gerad then summoned a Relic, content to beef himself up during the turns he couldn’t touch me.

One small sliver of sunshine was that he didn’t use his leftover source to activate another one of Kitsanya’s abilities. He could have shattered one of my sources in play, and that would have made a bad situation that much worse.

Gulping, I drew another source and a card. I was surprised to see the sunny plain of an Order source staring up at me; I wasn’t used to seeing anything but Nether. I put it up and cursed Badgou one more time in my mind for not giving me the chance to talk about Order cards I might include. They likely wouldn’t have turned the tide… but they might have. My other card was the second Marauder. My Order source was the only thing available, and I didn’t have a damn thing in hand I could use it on. My head felt like it wanted to burst – I was on the ropes, and I had to let my turn pass. I couldn’t do anything.

“You’ve got an Order source, have you?” Gerad said. “Get that purity out of your filthy hands. I won’t allow you to have it.” With a snap of the fingers and a focusing of source, he sent Kitsanya racing toward me. I tensed, knowing she couldn’t hurt me but fearing her anyway. Her knife slashed through my Order source, and it burst like a soap bubble. 

“In fact,” he said lazily, “let’s teach you a lesson while we’re at it.” More source dimmed, and Kitsanya lashed out again without even turning around, her other knife connecting with a spent Nether source. It collapsed in on itself and disappeared.

“You worthless son of a bitch!” I raged. “Stop that!”

“I’ll stop when you’re dead,” he said coldly. “And you can’t do a damned thing about it, gutter trash.” He tapped his Orb of Holding, and all his source flashed back to ready. He focused 3 more source, and Kitsanya struck again, destroying another of my Nether. I only had 1 left.

“I’ll kill you!” I screamed, my hands clenched and eyes bulging. “I’ll kill you!”

He pointed at me, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “I knew it. I knew you wanted me gone. You’ll never take my place, you dog. He doesn’t care about you and he never will. I am the Prince. Me!”

A harsh, despairing laugh slipped out of me. I was being beaten like a runaway slave by a little boy who just wanted his daddy to love him. If I hadn’t wanted to feel my teeth in his throat, I’d have felt sorry for him. I wanted to beat him senseless. My thoughts went to the clawed knuckle dusters in my pocket, and I wondered. The Dueling Dome didn’t allow for Artifacts, but was the Twins’ arena the same? I tried to reach into my pocket and my hand slid right past it. A second try did the same thing. I looked down and saw that the pocket mouth was gone. Not sewn shut, just… gone. I could feel the weight of the weapon against my thigh, but I couldn’t reach it. I guess that answers that.

Hopelessly I pulled more cards. I put up my Nether, knowing it wouldn’t stay there long, and snorted at the sight of my second Ravening Hatchling in hand. My draws had been spectacularly bad the whole game. Fortune had played his little trick on me. I couldn’t play the Talisman now; Kitsanya would gobble it up immediately, and that would trigger her ability that stripped away my hand. I was on the last turn of invulnerability; I’d be losing the rest of my deck at the end of the turn. All I could summon was my second Marauder or the Hatchlings, which were of more use in hand.

I’m done. I should just forfeit. Even as I had the thought, the street rat inside me protested. You think he’ll hold back from killing you just because you decide to give up? Fight, you stupid son of a bitch! Throw dirt in his eyes, kick him in the stones, do anything! 

Jaw firming, I summoned the Marauder. Hopeless or not, I was going down swinging. “Kill something over there, will you?” I said to it. Laughing, it ran over, where Hilbrand immediately intercepted and smashed it without a scratch just as he had done with the other one.

Card confetti shredded from me as my turn ended and the Sucking Void expired. My Mind Home was empty, I had 4 cards in hand, and nothing on the field. I was as cooked as a feastday goose. Head held high, I faced Gerad and his squad of intimidating Souls, vowing not to embarrass myself. I really wish I could have gotten those Epic shards and upgraded my Sucking Void before I died. I really would have liked to have held that one in my hand as a Mythic.

Gerad summoned All-For-One.

It wasn’t as long or wide as I’d seen it at other times when he had a full hand, but it was still bright and sharp. “This is what will kill you,” he promised me. “You say I don’t care about Order, but I want you to understand: killing you is bringing Order back to the city. You are a mistake. A flaw.”

“Stop talking like you’re anything but a rich kid bully and kill me already,” I snapped. “Nobody gives a shit.”

He went red in the face. “You don’t get anything that you want,” he snarled. Focusing source, he sent Kitsanya in to destroy another one of my source, and then both Hilbrand and the Paladin came charging at me. I couldn’t help it – I cowered when their swords came down on me. I threw all the cards I had between us, and Hilbrand bounced off, but only a single Hatchling came between me and the Paladin, and the force of its explosion wasn’t enough to stop his blade. The shining tip sank into the meat between my shoulder and my collarbone, making me scream. The Soul drew his blade back, and blood poured from the wound. I clutched at it, feeling the hot, slick blood pour over my fingers. 

Gerad strolled up and put the Orderbringer against my neck, a nasty smirk on his lips. “How many turns do you think I can keep you alive like this? I think I’ll let Kitsanya finish off your source before I end it.” He held back, and his turn ended.

I could barely see straight. My chest burned like fire and I wanted to vomit up everything I’d ever eaten. Hotter than all that, though, was the rage that burned within me. I might not have any Nether available, but I still had plenty of the thing that had brought Nether to me in the first place.

“Eat a bag of glass,” I snarled, and I focused on the Nether still waiting in my soul, compressing it down, down, down, just like Edaine had said. I couldn’t summon it, because the assassin would just destroy it – and what would I use it for anyway? My 1/1 Hatchlings, the only cards I had left? No. Gerad thought I was done for and had focused enough source that he couldn’t use Kitsanya to stop me. It was time to try a source explosion.

My eyes wouldn’t focus well enough to tell me how many cards he had left in his Mind Home, and I honestly didn’t have any hope that I’d be able to kill him – but at least I could die knowing I’d done every last damn thing I could and that I’d taken a chunk out of him at the end. The Nether inside me was a purple-white ball of energy no bigger than a marble. I pressed just that much more, and it exploded. I roared my defiance, and a blast of purple fire caught Gerad right in the face, staggering him and stripping 3 cards from his Mind Home. He swore and stumbled back, looking at the card confetti in confused anger.

Kneeling on the ground and clutching my red-soaked wound, I laughed weakly. “Sneak Attack is a bitch, ain’t it?”

The ghostly crowd had been roaring this whole time and I’d barely heard it, but I noticed when it suddenly disappeared. Looking around, I saw that we were back on the training field, everyone looking dazed and overwhelmed. Looked like the Twins had gotten bored once I’d well and truly lost – the Twins’ arena was gone. I was glad I’d get to die in real life with my friends nearby instead of on the dueling boards of some unknown place. I sought out Basil with my eyes and gave him a nod. Thanks for everything. He couldn’t hear my thoughts, of course, but hopefully he’d get the message anyway.

Recovering, Gerad raised his sword and rushed at me. I held my eyes open, determined to show no fear before this scared, insecure asshole.

Three copies of the Spell rushed in from all sides, and Gerad’s Legendary sword bounced off me like a feather. Everyone might still be left-footed after being caught up in the Twins’ game, but the veterans on Edaine’s crew didn’t miss a beat. We were back in training camp, and their job was to keep students from dying. 

“Gerad, stand down!” Edaine thundered. “Dismiss that sword this instant or I’ll dismiss you permanently.” Hustling over, she stood between us, and a group of her Korikana’s Spirits surrounded the Prince. “I don’t care who your father is, if you kill one of my lieutenants on my training grounds, I’ll have you in chains.”

Gerad stared down at her haughtily and gripped his sword tighter. “I could have killed him in the arena.”

“And I could have done nothing; correct. Instead you chose to toy with him and take out your petty grievances.” She shook her head, disgusted. “For once I’m glad your anger got the better of you. The sword, Gerad. Dismiss it.”

Smiling bitterly, Gerad dismissed his sword and his Souls, holding up his hands to signal harmlessness. 

Edaine backed away, hand still on her sword hilt, eyeing him warily. “Healer! Let’s get Hull back on his feet.”

It turned out that the one Healer on the field had fainted at the shock of being transported into a ghostly arena box, so I sat there in dull, pained silence and bled while they slapped the fellow back to life. Boots crunched in the dirt, and I hurt too much to look up. Gerad squatted beside me. I’d have tensed if I’d had the blood left in me to do it, but I just stared at him stupidly. Edaine was still watching us closely, so if he tried to stick a knife in me, I hoped she’d stop him.

“Next time,” he said softly. “Next time, or the time after, or the time after that. It never stops, gutter boy. I’ll see you dead. And in the meantime… thanks for making Hilbrand a Legendary. I’d show him to you, but I imagine you’ll get to meet him soon enough.” Standing up, he dusted off his hands and strode away whistling.

With all the pain I hadn’t noticed until he said something, but my Mind Home felt lighter than it had, less full. Heart aching and the dregs of rage trembling inside me, I put my hand behind my ear and drew out the Night Terror. I stared at it dumbly.

My mother’s card. I’d ruined it. She’d never forgive me. Undersized? What even is that?

Basil rushed up and caught me as I fell over. “The healer will be here any moment,” he said urgently. “Hold still, my dear friend. It will be all right.”

“It won’t,” I whispered, tears pricking at my eyes. “Nothing will be right until I’m strong enough to beat him.”