There was still that strange, green glow around the image of her mother, sticking to her body like smoke. But now, the Suolani woman's eyes were shimmering that same green.

"You must leave," said the woman in the mirror. She spoke with a gentle voice and gave a smile that sent a wave of serenity into Maeyune's body. "You do not belong here."

"Maeyune?"

Deiyu approached her again and moved his hand to touch her, but she shifted away, her eyes growing cold and hard. He made no indication if he saw her mother in the mirror.

"You are not my husband, and I am no princess," Maeyune affirmed. She turned the words into a sword, slicing at the dream that she had once had of them together.

Deiyu made no reaction to the bitterness in her tone, but maintained his polite smile.

"This is not real," she said.

"Come, beloved," Deiyu cooed. "We must celebrate our wedding night."

"This is not real," she repeated, her voice gaining strength.

The faint sound of shouting drew her attention to one of the mirrors farther down the hall. When she looked, she saw that the glass had disappeared entirely and was now a gaping hole--a window. No, a door.

She could see sand on the other side of the doorway, and sunlight streamed into the hall in golden beams.

Sunlight, at night? she pondered.

Her mother appeared inside the mirror that was adjacent to the opened doorway. "Here," was all she said before vanishing into green mist.

Maeyune did not hesitate. She gathered the layers of her skirt in fists and rushed forward, her ankles wobbly in her heeled shoes. Deiyu called after her, then ran to her side.

"Beloved, where are you going?"

"I am not your beloved," Maeyune said. She was surprised to find herself calm, rather than confused and angry like she had been before. She stopped a foot in front the mirrorless opening and felt a hot breeze whip sand against her face. Leaning over, she reached underneath her voluminous gown and tore off her shoes.

"Wretched dress," she muttered. "How can a woman fight in these things?"

She almost laughed aloud. Wait...her, fight?

Straightening, she shoved her heels into Deiyu's hands, and without a word, stepped through the doorway and into blinding light.

The white light carried on for miles. She could see nothing, not even the ground on which she tread.

Despite her lack of sight, she felt coarse sand underneath her feet as she walked. Then, a moment later, she stepped onto something smooth, padded, maybe even wet.

Soon, a multitude of smells assailed her nose. Through a thick layer of pungent spices, she recognized the odor of trash, sweat and blood. She almost wretched from the impact of the stench and slapped a palm over her nose and mouth.

Like earlier that night, she could only feel and smell. When she blinked, her vision cleared. But instead of emerging from darkness, she was thrust out from the realm of light. The world filled her vision in reds, beiges, and blacks, and she had to squint against the environment to ease the pain in the back of her eyes.

The setting came excruciatingly slow, but the first thing she could see were two men engaged in a violent brawl on the ground. They were only feet from her, and she watched as one man rose over the other, straddling his chest to deliver blow after blow to the fallen man's face.

She didn't know what force compelled her or told her she needed to stop them, but she rushed forward anyway.

"Stop!" she cried, shoving the aggressor off his knees. With an astonished yelp, he fell over onto his side.

Boos began to circulate, and Maeyune's head snapped up.

The environment finally ebbed into place, and Maeyune found herself standing at the center of a fighting platform.

A tall, wired fence enclosed the platform, turning it into a cage. The fighting cage was situated inside an alley between two brick buildings, where a large crowd had gathered to watch, filling the entirety of the space. The crowd consisted mostly of men, either dressed in fine clothing or battered rags. Among them, Maeyune spotted a few women, all whom had shaggy hair and soiled dresses, with hands cupped around their mouths as they shrieked expletives at her.

The majority of the population had olive skin, dark hair, and dark eyes, and the buildings that rose up around them were not the glimmering structures of the Silver City.

She was no longer in Suolan, she realized with awe.

She was in Bera.

But there were no towers of glass and steel. Instead, she was surrounded by structures of brick and stone. The weather was hot and uncomfortably dry, and she made the quick assumption that she was somewhere off in the desert.

Eyes wide, Maeyune stared as the crowd tossed their unfinished consumables at the cage and shook their fists at her.

She turned, frantic. How was she in Bera, and how had she even traveled there from Suolan? Had she stepped through some kind of...portal? Where was her mother?

The losing fighter made no reaction to her, only lay still on his back, his nose broken and both eyes swollen. Droplets of his blood stained the cage mat, which was already filthy from previous fights.

"What the hell are you doing?" snarled the assailant Maeyune had knocked to the ground.

"I'm sorry, I--"

Her words failed her when she turned to him, watching him as he rose from the floor. He stood taller than her--and much broader--but appeared to be around her age. His bronze-colored hair was an unkempt mess, reaching the nape of his neck and curling at the ends.

Like the other fighter, he was shirtless with a muscled torso and only wore a pair of disheveled, black trousers. His tanned skin, bruised and cut from fighting, bore a number of intricate, black tattoos that spanned from his left chest and across his left shoulder to the back. Maeyune caught the prominent tattoo of a sun over a horizon before she met his dark eyes.

He glared daggers into her. But even with the agitation spewed across his face, she couldn't help but find him attractive--and curiously familiar.

She spoke before she could stop herself. "Cage fighting is illegal."

More boos exploded around her.

The fighter's face warped from anger to surprise. Then, he barked out a laugh. "And what are you going to do about that, sweetheart?"

Annoyance flicked at the back of her mind. Sweetheart?

With a lazy thumb, he wiped away blood from his split bottom lip before he smiled at her. "Sorry, I don't fight girls," the fighter proclaimed, holding his hands out to the sides and shrugging in apology.

Again, words spilled from Maeyune's lips of their own accord. "You have never met a girl like me before."

It startled him as much as it startled her. She watched as his eyebrows soared high. His eyes meandered down her body, then back up again.

"Oh?"

She followed his eyes, glancing down at herself, only to find that she no longer donned the massive wedding gown. The crown was gone, too. Now, she wore slim trousers and a cropped top, showing muscles she had never seen before on her body.

Where had these clothes come from? And even if she was dressed the part, she didn't know how to fight.

Or...did she?

Two large men had entered from the side door to drag the injured fighter from the cage. The crowd had begun to shout at this point, demanding a refund of their money. But the young man addressed them all. He tossed his hands out to the sides and walked in easy strides around the cage, around Maeyune. While he raised his voice to yell over their raucous commotion, his dark eyes never left her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, wait just a minute!" he announced. "This pretty lady says she wants to fight me."

The crowd fell to hushed murmurs, some gawking at him, others snickering. The women glowered at Maeyune, and she imagined forked tongues snaking out from between their teeth.

People began to shout in displeasure.

"Know your place, girl!"

"You've got a death wish!"

"Teach her a lesson, Fire!"

Fire?

Maeyune stood firm, turning every so often to ensure she faced the fighter at all times. She should have run; she should have retreated. Heavens, she should have been scared for her life.

This boy—Fire—was circling her, like a wolf around a small, defensive hare. But she didn't move. She didn't waver. And her breathing? It was even and calm.

She didn't recognize herself. It was almost as if she had done this before, as if she had fought before...But she couldn't remember that time.

Fire stopped his pacing and turned his body to face her, cocking his head to the side to survey her from head to toe again. "Alright," he said, his grin never fading. "Let's dance."

(Continued in Part 3)