Striding through the halls of the palace, Chyrie felt like a stranger to the crystalline walls.

Her parents' portraits were removed, the throne room sacked and burned. Each long running rug had been ripped up, every painting covered along with the fine art her parents had forged and blown for Courmasse.

There were no spectators assembled to watch—a surprise considering how vague she'd known Anryth to be.

Approaching a wide clearing with white chalk outlining an octagonal boundary, the space sat before one throne. The craftsmanship was beyond Chyrie's recognition.

"Do you remember what I taught you?" Xiran whispered in her ear as they stopped.

Chyrie nodded, casting a worried glance behind them. Asa and Iden were chained and assisted by two guards, herded like sheep as if they'd tried and failed to escape before.

She couldn't let herself think about it.

Cathan was more gently manuvered by another guard, his focus trained on the floor. His shoulders were still slumped and exhausted, his determination waning.

"Now," Anryth began. "It would seem we have five of you, an uneven number for battle. So I'm imposing a sudden death."

"What aren't you imposing," Iden muttered.

Anryth's smile grew.

He gestured to the set of guards behind her and Xiran, masked completely in black with nondescript armor that only unsettled Chyrie more.

Asa and Iden were thrust into the ring first, their chains disappearing upon contact with a strange barrier.

"The swords," he called, gesturing toward two pillars.

Iden didn't look at the weapon, lunging for the chalk line only to be rebounded.

Anryth tsked, chuckling to himself. "You thought it would be that easy? The only way out is through your beloved, General."

To Chyrie's shock, Iden paled. He slowly shifted to see Asa standing with her broadsword already, smirking like a cat. The vision was positively horrifying, amplified by the dirt crusting her features.

"Asa..." Iden said. "I don't want to fight you."

"Unfortunately, I don't believe you have a choice," she replied.

The ease in her tone unsettled even Chyrie.

She barely recognized the sweet, tender woman with a heart of steel. Her best friend was a changed woman, surely. But a killer, not.

"This has been a long time coming," Xiran answered her thoughts again, reading them straight from her expression.

"Asa nearly killed him last time," Cathan agreed.

"Last time?"

Cathan wedged himself close between their shoulders. "They brawled in the prison, bloody enough the Ceirvani involved themselves, but neither had a weapon. Asa bested him bare handed, I doubt Iden will survive this."

"They hate each other that much?" Chyrie asked.

Xiran nodded once.

"Iden is a tool, but he doesn't hate her. Asa, though? She's been waiting for this moment to be free."

Cathan's hushed words lingered between them as the couple circled one another in the octagon.

Upon the first clash of blades, Chyrie was enraptured by the assurance in Asa's steps. She commanded the battlefield, ignoring Iden's pleas to find a loophole. Without needing to speak it, Chyrie knew this was Asa's loophole.

Her claim to freedom.

Asa overtook the General quickly, dismantling his guard and pinning him to the quartz beneath her feet. Pressing her boot into the man's chest, she lifted her blade. For one moment, her face softened.

"I'm sorry, Iden."

His lips parted to speak, but Chyrie closed her eyes, turning to hide in Xiran's arm as another head rolled across the crystal floors.

"Is your magic intact?" she demanded quietly, looking between the two men. "Both of you."

Xiran nodded again, slow and inconspicuously.

Cathan cleared his throat, tossing the guards a look before stretching his neck. In the movement, she caught his subtle affirmation.

"And the barrier is magic?"

Cathan coughed again, but didn't make eye contact.

She took a deep breath as Asa cleaned her blade and Anryth left his perch.

"Mind the chalk," she said, praying they understood.

"Brutal and efficient, my dear," the king of Rymedor said.

Asa hissed at him, rejoining their company.

"No rest, I'm afraid," he spoke again, gesturing to the bloody clearing. "As you've been so kindly informed, a Ceirvani custom is to allow the prisoners a duel. Only, you'll be fighting each other."

Chyrie tuned his droning out, formulating her plan as he spoke. Eight lines. Eight smudges. She needed to disrupt the barrier and attack when it was least expected.

She was not stronger than her companions, but perhaps she could be faster.

Their fight would be believed.

Their struggle, spectated by this mad king.

And then she would behead the man who stole her family.

A barrier was a barrier, no matter the magic, the fault lines needed to be strong.

Shoved into the ring, Chyrie felt a strange tingling against her skin through the void.

Asa contained her exhaustion, but panted slightly as they stood facing one another.

Chyrie stared Xiran in the eyes, memorizing his scales, the golden hue lining his skin, and tried to catalogue them as she knew her brother's face. Asa's face.

Should this go poorly, she wanted to die with that honor.

Pyres rose from the ground, offering her the rapier she crafted for herself.

Chyrie caught the ghostly smile on Xiran's face as his thumb traced over the Jera on her make-shift scythe.

"The rules are simple," Anryth shouted from his new seat, smirking. "Last one standing must go through me."

Cathan and Asa exchanged looks before turning to stare her in the eyes. Chyrie mouthed the word chalk one last time, flashing her gaze pointedly.

"Make it believable," she whispered.

Without another word, as if she'd adopted the persona of a brutal warrior, Asa lunged for her.

Sorrow clashed with bravery as their swords connected.

Chyrie planted her feet into the ground and let her best friend shove her back against the barrier. Asa's broadsword was much thicker, much stronger than her rapier, but she managed to thrust her back and drag the tip of her blade through the chalk for good measure.

She didn't want anything to go through Anryth other than her sword.

Behind them, Xiran and Cathan fought a more scripted routine. She considered it violent sparring more than a fight to the death. Her brother was weak from beatings and Xiran knew it.

He went easy, edging but not over taking Cathan until he was standing on the chalk.

Chyrie watched Anryth, his elbows rested on his knees as he watched pensively. Only managing to steal glances while dueling Asa, she found that the madness had subsided into something more distant.

Something tired.

Steel met steel, again and again.

"What's your plan?" Asa hissed through gritted teeth.

Chyrie realized Anryth might actually want to die. If his people swore by justice, perhaps a fair death was the only way for him to return to those he lost. Even if she could be romanticizing his life, she swore she saw those stories spinning in his eyes.

"What... is... your plan?" her friend snapped again.

"Clear the chalk. Kill the King," she muttered. "We have to break the barrier."

Asa's eyes gleamed with an emotion mirroring pride and nodded. She kicked Chyrie's legs out from under her, slashing down on her neck slowly.

Chyrie rolled away, throwing herself in between the swords of Xiran and Cathan.

On instinct, both men pivoted away from her, panting.

"Boring!" Anryth yelled. "You lot are terrible at killing each other!"

Chyrie's eyes met Xiran's and together they scanned the room for the broken lines. Almost all of them had been smudged or cut save for one near their initial entrance.

Remembering the style Xiran had taught her, she went in sliding between his legs and jumped up behind him, whirling around to kick his back.

With extra strength, the captain stumbled forward, catching himself.

Xiran's brow raised, almost challenging her to try that once more.

When she lunged this time, he grabbed her calf and threw her straight into the barrier walls.

Chyrie's skull cried out as she collided with the forcefield of magic, shattering the fragile magic around them. Sparks of light fell around them as Xiran used those precious moments to run for Anryth.

The King of Rymedör panicked, eyes widening as the Mer raced for him.

Anryth fled.

Chyrie knew he'd swing for the palace doors and lept to intercept him, dropping into a deep kick and sending him flying backward.

No more.

No more killing, no more running.

This man would pay for what he's done.

Asa collected her lost blade from the ground and went to grab Cathan, who was collapsed on the ground, rasping.

Chyrie seized her moment, stalking forward and stepping on Anryth's neck.

Her whole body trembled with anticipation.

The rapier in her hands weighed the world and she couldn't stop her hands from trembling as she poked at his heart.

There, underneath the finery and hatred, was a man begging to be killed.

"Do it!"

Chyrie blinked.

"Just do it already!"

Xiran slowly dismantled the guards, incapacitating them.

She asked Setryr for the answer.

Begged Niukka.

Her soul shivered in response.

"I hate you so much, I cannot even bring myself to kill you."

With that, Chyrie pulled away.