Moist dirt slides between my toes as I shift anxiously from one foot to the other. White knuckled fingers grasp at the cold, black metal, and a quiver rattles through my body as I peer through the bars. A maddening tempo thunders through my chest, the blood pounding in my eardrums and reverberating in my bones. Oxygen dances through my lungs, teasing me with energy only to rush through my parted lips in an unwelcome release. 

"Stop breathing so fast; you'll pass out." The impassive voice barks as a pair of arms tear my fingers free and whip me around. I expel a strangled shriek and lurch away, sending my back into the metal poles with jarring impact. Kaya watches me silently, her lips drawn into a grim line, and her amber eyes void of empathy. 

"Don't do that," I bite out and quickly follow as she turns away. Kaya's shoulders shrug in response, but she doesn't turn around, nor does she offer any verbal acknowledgment. I clench my teeth, feeling the soreness in my jaw from the last fight, and wince. I was not physically prepared to engage in battle today, but the arena follows its own set of rules that cares little for my state of being. 

A wave of wonder ignites the crowds above us, their voices rising in one shattering crescendo that rips through my skull—the sounds of metal clash and more cries, both triumph and defeat, pepper the air. An amplified voice rises above them all, the announcer, stating each jab and reflecting every movement made by the competitors. 

Kaya's pace quickens as she guides me through the web of warriors preparing for their moment in the arena. Some leer at me, others cower and shift back, but they all watch with detached curiosity as I shuffle through them, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. 

Briefly, I wonder what they think of the petite girl with short blonde hair and fearful brown eyes, coated in dust and dirt, clad in a bland brown tunic that had been torn above the knee. Then, with disturbing clarity, I recount the scars that scatter my arms and legs, ugly, crisscrossed gashes of white and red skin that represented everything I had come to hate. 

They feared me, they were right to. I was not innocent and I was not frail, despite everything my physical appearance claimed I was. My heart was not whole and the pain I had endured far outnumbered anything they had ever encountered in the arena. I was not merely trained as they had been, I was born and bred to be vicious. 

To my annoyance, Kaya comes to an abrupt stop before a large black gate and I ram right into her back. "Oomph," I garble, shifting backward and rubbing my chin where the force of the contact had settled. Kaya turns with a wry smile on her lips and jerks her head toward the armor beside her. 

"Nearly up," she says, your fight is about to start. I mentally translate, feeling my entire body shivering as I slip my feet into the soft, brown slippers and hover the shimmering orb of protection over my head. It liquifies around me, melding with my skin, and snapping into place as if it had always been apart of me. As the mask encloses my face and clouds me in its warm embrace, I feel myself straighten up and embody the persona of a warrior. I grasp tightly to the hilt of a silver blade and strap a bow and arrow to my back, holstering a set of throwing knives at each hip then stand patiently at the gate. 

Overhead, the crowds explode into a sound that one could never hope to interpret, and a boisterous horn signals the end of the match; leaving one warrior triumphant and the other dead at their feet. Slowly, and with great effort, the gate creaks and swings wide. A quiet hum erupts from the space around me as I step forward into its gentle caress and draw myself up, slipping effortlessly into a detached, yet alert, mindset that offers no room for empathy—only animal-instinct driven by the promise of survival. 

The floor groans and rises, the metallic cave shifting around me as I'm lifted into the center of the arena. Sunlight pours through the cracks as it ascends, morphing and shying away to reveal a girl in shimmering armor atop a platform christened with spilled blood and torn flesh. 

The crowds know nothing but explosive energy as they lay eyes on me; their warrior of choice. Men and women of all ages climb to their feet, fists protruding to the sky in shows of support and fingers curling around their lips as they scream out encouragements. I rotate in a slow, methodic circle, paying tribute to each person as I do. The ground beneath me quakes and I return to myself, sliding off the pedestal and taking up a position beside the mound as it retreats into the tunnels. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, our next competitor, the alluring, formidable Talon!" The announcer pauses after my name, allowing the crowd their moment of glee as they respond in torrents of noise. "Her talents are many and her victories more," the voice continues, but my sights are set on the platform as it once again rises from the dirt and produces my opponent in all of their wonder and glory. My heartbeat comes to a screeching halt and my feet stumble away as my mind goes entirely blank. 

"She is the warrior's choice and today, she will stand in battle against the stoic, fearsome Draco!" The mention of his name leaves a bitterness in my chest, and I watch in complete horror as he offers the crowd a pleasing bow and steps into the arena. His lips are twisted into a vile smile, one that contorts his normally handsome features and showcases his finely polished razor-sharp teeth. Light eyes full of sea and moss meet mine and the earth seems to fall out from beneath me. 

A quiver draws me to my knees in the dirt and my grip on the sword hilt loosens but doesn't break. His eyes watch me with intense concentration and a softness that doesn't match his movements cries out to me. I'm drawn to that look, nearly propelled forward by the force of it, and left in a tormented mess when he glances away. 

Pull yourself together Talon! I chide, surging to my feet and brandishing my sword with a renewed vigor that doesn't reach my heart. I'm torn in three directions, staggering about in a wasteland of horror, anguish, and resolve. My body reacts on instinct, drawing back and cluing into the announcer as he rambles on, the soft notes of the commencement melody playing in the background. My mind fumbles through thought, emotion, and memory willing itself to separate the past from the present. My heart is having none of it as it thunders through me, electrifying my entire body with a pounding I'm sure the entire arena can hear. 

Then the song ends, Draco and I face-off, and the battle begins. 

He lunges at me, his double-edged sword drawn up over his head and the spikes on his shoulders gleaming in the sunlight. I dodge backward, lashing out with my blade and hearing the screech of metal as we connect. The momentum of his body sends him hurtling past me and I take the break in contact to shuffle out of his sight, lining up the tip of my sword with the back of his neck. He recovers as I'm hurtling forward, ready to impale his flesh on the end of my weapon. 

Drace turns, his eyes snapping with a ferocity I've seen many times, and the look breaks through my focus. I gasp, anxiously angling my blade to the side and swinging the weight of my body off-kilter. The result is a brush of metal against his arm, a thin line of blood as it trickles to the ground, and a thump that knocks the wind from my lungs as I collide with the ground. Draco's roar of indignation sets my teeth on edge as I roll to my back, anticipating his rash movements and using my feet to push him back. 

I drew first blood. The thought makes my blood run cold as I push off the ground and land on my feet before him. Draco growls and advances, his entire body wrought with tension as he bears down on me. This time I can't react fast enough and our blades crash into each other, the impact sending tingles through my entire right side. He retreats from my block and attacks again, but somewhere between then and now I've pulled a dagger and angled it where his next blow lands. 

My mind sluggishly tries to catch up as my body propels toward, slashing and stabbing with both weapons in a torrent of motion that my eyes can't follow. Draco and I never lose eye contact as we battle and the pain I know is on my face reflects back at me in his stare. Then the horn blares and we retreat, both breathing hard as we continue to stare into the other's eyes. 

"Our warriors have survived round one," the announcer rumbles, his voice muffled with static as he continues. "Next, they will shed their armor and take up their true forms." With his declaration, my armor retreats in on itself and the orb falls harmlessly to the ground at my feet. I shiver at the sudden exposure and watch as Draco tears the heavy, spiked vest over his head and discards it at his feet. 

Then, on a signal neither one of us can see, we both begin to change. My skin darkens, coming slick and scaly. My fingernails lengthen into curled talons and torso shifts into the body of a dragon. I feel my teeth elongate and my throat fills with fire, a wicked roar escapes my lips as the transition completes. My large feet pound into the ground and I breathe out, watching as the flames lick at the ground beneath me. 

Through my intensified eyes, I glimpse Draco in his wolfish shape. Glittering black fur, sharp teeth, a long pink tongue, and elusive light eyes that watch me with something akin to desire. He ducks his head, long muzzle brushing the dirt and feet tearing at the grass. We circle one another, nearly identically matched in size.

For a dragon, I was small. 

For a wolf, he was big. 

The crowds around us slip away as I face Draco, my mind racing with the implications of this stage in the battle. We were too acutely in tune with each other's fighting methods, too evenly matched to ever hope of outsmarting the other. Our past had ensured that and our present was suddenly weighed down with the knowledge that this fight would likely end in our mutual demise. One could never manage to kill the person they loved without killing themself in the process. 

At least, I couldn't. 

Neither can I. 

The response is a shock and I pause, tilting my gaze at him curiously. Draco's eyes implore me even as he tears at the ground, preparing to attack. Yes, we could communicate through a telepathic connection while in our true forms, but I hadn't considered that he might be open to me. We were in a fight to the death and a bitter part of me had expected him to remain closed off and detached like I usually was. 

Draco and I leap into the air at the same time, both reaching for the other. His jaw latches onto my arm and I blow a puff of fire toward his chest. His teeth break flesh and my fire burns the fur from his body. Two cries of pain rise up into the chorus of cheers and cries as the crowd looks on with enraptured awareness. 

We fall away from each other, recovering almost instantly and preparing for the next attack. Draco shakes himself and my blood drips from his teeth. I cradle my wounded arm to my chest, muscles taut against the agony that rips through me. 

I don't want to die. 

The thought resounds in my mind, pulling at my fraying composure and shredding my heart into tiny remnants of itself. Draco nods at me, his way of letting me know that he heard my cry. I catch my breath and watch him quizzically as he stalks toward me. 

Then let's not die. 

His voice echoes in my head and I find his words hard to follow. 

Not die? In a fight to the death? How could two competitors walk away alive when they were surrounded by a crowd hellbent on bloodlust and an arena of fighters ready and willing to tear them apart if they refused? 

I'd seen it happen before, two people unwilling to complete their battle and the shrieks of dismay that ensued. The way the fighters cramped the arena and ripped them apart. The disgusting looks of pleasure on the onlookers' faces as they cheered along. 

Draco tosses his head at me, teeth bared in a snarl. I rear back, expecting an attack and frowning when there isn't one. Then, he turns away from me and runs full force at the arena's oversized door, meant only for show, yet the singular chance of us both getting out alive. 

I knew what lay on the other side of that door and I knew it wouldn't be easy to break it down. But I also understood that Draco wasn't going to kill me and I wasn't going to kill him. But the odds were against us. 

The crowd falls deadly silent and I realize he's made a move that can't be undone. He's changed the game, rewritten the rules, and there's no going back.