The chambers weren't luxurious, but they were private. And in this city, that was power.
Stone walls hummed faintly with warding glyphs. Two beds. One sitting bench. A simple washbasin. It smelled like polished granite and old metal — clean, but not sterile. The kind of space carved by function, not wealth.
I ran a hand along the wall as I entered, then tugged my blindfold free.
The darkness didn't change much. Just… softened.
Salem moved easily, already mapping the perimeter in that silent, predator-wary way she did when we arrived anywhere new. Her knife was sheathed at her hip, its presence quiet but absolute. She didn't talk much after the draw — not angry, just calculating.
Tovin lingered in the doorway.
I turned to face him, holding the blindfold in my hand. "You can come in, you know. It's not cursed."
He startled. "No, I just—uh." He stepped in, rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn't want to intrude."
"You're part of this team now," I said, motioning toward the bench. "No intruding. Just surviving."
He sat, a little stiffly. "Right. Survive. That's the idea."
I tilted my head. "You're nervous."
"Is it that obvious?"
"To me? Yes."
He gave a breathy laugh, then quieted. "I didn't think I'd be chosen. Rank Eight isn't… it's not usually worth writing down."
"Then write your own worth."
Tovin didn't answer. But his mana shifted slightly — not stronger. Just more rooted.
I sat across from him. "I'm Annabel. This is Salem."
"Right," he said. "The blind girl and the demon."
I didn't smile. But I didn't flinch either. "You'll want to stop calling her that."
He cleared his throat. "Sorry. That came out wrong. I didn't mean it like—"
"She's might be a demon, but she prefers just to be my bond."
Tovin looked up at her. She was perched on the edge of the bed, knife across her lap, watching him with unreadable eyes.
"Got it," he said quickly.
Salem blinked once.
I folded the blindfold into my pocket. "We fight tomorrow. Ten hours. Maybe less. If you've got weaknesses, you tell me now."
He hesitated. "I… don't have a lot of stamina. I can hold a shield, shape terrain, slow people down—but only for so long."
"Good," I said. "We won't need you to last. We'll need you to disrupt."
His eyebrows rose slightly. "That's the plan?"
"Not all of it. But it's where you fit best. You make noise. Salem strikes. I control."
He looked between us like he was trying to imagine that in motion. Then: "That… might actually work."
I leaned back. "We'll watch some mages practice outside soon. But rest first. Eat something. Unwind."
"Can I ask something first?"
"Sure."
"…How do you fight blind?"
I paused.
"I don't."
His brow furrowed.
"I listen."
⸻
Pov Daniel
His room was a mess within five minutes.
Shield tossed to the floor. Boots kicked under the bed. Hair damp from the washbasin. He was sprawled on his cot, arms crossed behind his head, staring at the warded ceiling like it owed him answers.
Across from him, Aster was kneeling in front of a small ring of salt and driftwood. Her water bond pulsed faintly — a creature like spun fog and silk that circled her with every breath.
Daniel watched it without speaking.
"Don't like silence?" she asked without turning.
He grunted. "Not my style."
"I figured."
He snorted. "You're not bad, though. Solid control. Like your poise."
She rose slowly, bond settling over her shoulders like a shawl. "You like everything with long legs."
"Only if they also have long-range magic."
She actually laughed.
He grinned, proud. "See? We're gonna kill out there."
Her gaze sharpened. "I'll make sure we live first."
⸻
Pov Kate
Her room was still. Sharp with tension.
She sat on the bed, re-stringing her bow in measured, perfect silence. Across from her, Davin paced — broad-shouldered, smoke-scarred, and visibly restless.
"You always this quiet?" he asked finally.
"Yes."
"You gonna talk during the match?"
"No."
He rubbed his jaw. "Alright. Just wondering where the line was."
Kate paused. "You're fire and earth, right?"
"Mostly fire."
"And fists."
He nodded. "Can punch through a wall if I'm mad enough."
"I hope you're mad when we fight."
He blinked.
Kate finished tying off her string. "Because I'm not pulling you out of the rubble."
He laughed "thats okay with me" he put out his hand. "The names Quillon"
"Kate"
Pov Annabel
The bed was too stiff. The room too still. My skin buzzed with leftover tension, like my body hadn't caught up to the quiet yet.
Salem sat on the couch—legs drawn up, knife sheathed but never far. She didn't speak. Didn't need to.
I crossed the room, boots soft on stone, and wordlessly sank down beside her. Then lower.
Carefully, I laid my head across her lap.
Salem didn't flinch. Her hand moved once, a quiet sweep of fingers brushing hair from my face, then returned to stillness. She let me stay there. Let me breathe.
Her thighs were nice, warm beneath me. soft.
"I'm tired," I said quietly. "Not just now. From everything. The fighting. The watching. The fact that I can't go five minutes without someone asking how I do it blind."
Salem said nothing. But her mana moved—just a little. Enough to remind me she was listening.
"It's like fighting and being strong isn't enough. Like I have to perform too."
My fingers curled loosely into the fabric of her pants. Her other hand hovered for a moment, then rested against my shoulder.
"I don't even know if I care about winning," I murmured. "I just want to make it through without losing more pieces of myself."
Still nothing.
I frowned, lips brushing against the soft fabric stretched over her thigh.
Then—without warning—I bit her gently. Not hard. Just enough pressure to ask why are you so quiet the way words couldn't.
Her thigh twitched under me.
"Say something," I whispered.
Salem finally spoke—low, warm, barely audible.
"You're still here."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one that matters right now."
I didn't argue. Not with her hand moving again, slow and light, brushing the curve of my shoulder. Not with the way her presence filled every corner of the silence.
I let my eyes drift shut.
Then, without lifting my head: "I know you're not asleep."
A beat of hesitation from across the room.
"I know you're looking at us."
Tovin stiffened from the bed. His voice, when it came, was small. "I wasn't—I mean, I wasn't trying to be weird. Just… you both look calm. That's rare."
I didn't move. "It comes with experience. But honestly i'm not that calm right now. Just tired."
He didn't respond, but I felt the guilt in the air soften. The kind that comes from being seen and not punished for it.
I exhaled.
Salem's thumb moved once, another slow stroke down the side of my arm.
I stayed there—wrapped in breath and body and the quiet we didn't need to explain.
Ten hours.
Let the world wait.