The sky was blood-orange, the final kiss of daylight fading into deep violet. Torches blazed all around the Ghost Arena, their flames dancing wildly in the evening breeze.
Spectators lined the upper terraces—hundreds of deadly beautiful female warriors clad in black, silver, and crimson armor. They were silent, their glowing eyes fixed on the center stage.
Dominic stood alone.
He bore the bruises of his first two trials—scrapes from the twenty elite Ghost soldiers, welts and gashes from the mad female specter.
But now his posture was calm. He breathed steadily. His hands gripped the sword strapped to his back, but his eyes remained alert.
He didn't know what the final trial would be. He stared at Lady Fares pleading for answers silently. But she waved her hands and...
Then… the doors creaked open.
The crowd shifted as a figure emerged.
Dominic's eyes widened as he turned to see the figure.
Alice.
