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Chapter 33: Sandstorm

  Lukas found himself in Sorana’s box within the arena just a few hours after training. He had barely had time to complete a session with the family healer before he was rushed to get ready. Marie and Lord Sulli nearly pulled him out of the manor to avoid being late. His leg still burned, but he could walk without a noticeable limp, and he felt significantly better than during his first session.

  Looking back, Lukas noticed Reza standing at the back of the seats, watching the arena with an aura of nervousness surrounding him. This was unlike Reza, who was usually very outwardly confident. Despite his mood, Lukas knew this was the only opportunity to speak with him before the duel. Reza would likely disappear afterward to be with Sabine.

  Although he didn’t know them both well, it was evident that something had changed between them in the past few weeks. Or perhaps they had made their relationship more public than before, as it was clear to everyone who saw them that they were deeply in love. Regardless, this was Lukas’s only chance to provide Reza with the update Vorcan had requested.

  “How did the training go?” Reza asked as Lukas joined him at the rail. His eyes returned to the empty sands below, but Lukas could sense that he was still listening.

  “Well, it was satisfactory. We got some more understanding of the powers. Master Vorcan will likely want to discuss it with you to determine our next course of action. However, he doesn’t want me practicing without him or you for everyone’s safety. He expressed concerns about too many questions and worries about my powers. He clearly told me not to use the powers until you both approve.” Lukas explained.

  Reza glanced over and gave a questioning look. Lukas recounted what they had learned and the few powers that had been revealed. Reza absorbed the information attentively, and his focus was now entirely on Lukas. It took a while before he finally began to ask questions.

  “Good, good. Vorcan is right to have you practice only the powers in our presence. But that’s intriguing—I wonder how many different abilities there are. The deck has what 69 cards?” He scratched his chin thoughtfully before continuing. “However, the two cards Severin pulled were the Arcana cards a few days back. Did any of the ones you see not belong to the Arcana?”

  Lukas quickly recalled. “No, each of them was an Arcana card.” But before the conversation could progress further, the Orator stood in the box and began to address the audience.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, Sorana expresses her deepest gratitude to each and every one of you for joining us tonight.” He continued his speech, but Reza gently pulled Lukas closer to continue their discussion.

  “So, three powers each are connected to an Arcana card. It’s probably not a mere coincidence.” Reza remarked. “I don’t want to claim I’m right with my assertion, but it feels correct.”

  Lukas understood the direction Reza’s thoughts were leading. “So, you believe each Arcana card is associated with a power. Thirteen cards, thirteen powers? Is that a plausible possibility?” Lukas hadn’t encountered many wraith-pact holders with multiple powers, let alone thirteen. Most of those multiple powers were variations of the same thing, while Lukas had demonstrated two similar abilities and one distinctly different from the rest. What would the remaining ten be?

  “Yes, it might simply be that. Strange and potentially powerful, but Lord Sulli mentioned that Marcellus recognized Severin as exceptional. There are different power scales. You might be at the pinnacle with Severin. We’ll discover this during future training sessions.” Reza glanced back at the Orator, who seemed to be concluding his speech.

  “Our second contestant is Tannic Duran of Salwin.” The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, and the Orator raised his hands to restore order.

  “Let’s head back; we should be there to support Sabine.” Reza returned to his seat but did not attempt to resume his seat.

  Lukas joined him at his side. Sabine, already in the arena, wore her usual bow and crossbows but had added a veil that covered most of her face, leaving only a tiny slit for her to see. The cloth wrapped entirely around her head, concealing everything. The Arena now also featured about a dozen buckets positioned around its edges, filled with what appeared to be arrows.

  So, she had requested more arrows—an excellent strategy if her quiver ran out. She could swiftly grab half a dozen arrows as they passed by, and from the look of each one, she had hundreds, possibly even thousands, to shoot. Taking advantage of these advantages, thankfully, Hasbeck had demonstrated the way, and others had followed suit.

  Tannic stood, dressed in a close-fitting brown and grey uniform, each hand holding a short sword. A silvery wraith stood at the arena’s entrance, away from Tannic, as he moved into the center. Sabine maintained a safe distance, staying near the gate she had exited with her Wraith, approximately thirty feet away. Its bow was already pointed at Tannic.

  “She appears prepared for this,” Lukas remarked.

  “As much as she could,” Reza shook his head. “One thing that makes me uneasy is that I expected the man to wear a shield. It seems strange not to have some protection against Sabine’s arrows or her Wraith. He must have witnessed her last duel; it makes little sense.”

  Lukas agreed; it was indeed something he would expect anyone to want against such formidable firepower. “What powers does his wraith grant him? Perhaps he doesn’t require a shield.”

  “He possesses some control over sand, but we are unaware of its extent. The man could only manipulate the wind or control the sand. So, you may be correct; we will discover this in just a moment.” Reza clenched the rail before him, his gaze fixed on the fighters.

  “In the name of our Lady Sorana, who has blessed this contest. You may begin.” The Orator’s arm lowered, and Sabine moved to her right.

  Within seconds of receiving the call, Sabine fired her first arrow, striking Tannic with incredible speed. The man remained immobile, allowing her shot to find its mark on his shoulder. A soft, white glow emanated from his body, but he didn’t flinch or react in any way. Instead, he turned on his heels and watched her as she circled him.

  Lukas was astounded by the man’s unwavering composure and the sheer force of her attacks. He couldn’t comprehend how someone could take an arrow and not at least grimace.

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  Sabine unleashed another arrow before swiftly retracting the string and unleashing a powerful shot from her wraith. Another arrow struck Tannic’s chest, causing him to glow again with a soft, white light. Despite the arrow's impact, he managed to maintain his feet, unperturbed by the force of the blow.

  As the duel could conclude with one more arrow, Lukas had no idea how this could be possible; Tannic was doing nothing to protect himself. But as the Wraith’s power shot toward Tannic, he finally went into action, dropping the swords that had sunk into the ground a couple of inches. Sand welled up and created a significant barrier between him and Sabine. Another powerful arrow smacked into the sand and shattered against it. The sand then began to move in a circular motion around Tannic.

  The sand began to move faster, and arrows shot into the sandstorm, but each fell well short of the center of the maelstrom, and every shot from the Wraith shattered against the wall of sand.

  The sand moved faster and faster, a red hue blocking Lukas’s sight.

  Not again. Lukas’s body and mind froze, his eyes no longer fixed on the duel. He was no longer in the city or even in the present. He had been sent back in time to the plains west of Arkhen. Red sand surrounded him, death and destruction as his cousin sacrificed himself to allow Lukas to live.

  Escape. Lukas had to flee, run away, and escape this power. He turned to leave to find safety. Where could he go?

  Lukas summoned Severin and turned to flee from the box. He felt the comforting sensation of the power surging through his mind as he held it, ready to unleash it. Severin appeared at the back of the room, leaning against the wall. Lukas caught himself at the sight of his Wraith, who was so composed, and he froze on his heel mid-turn.

  “Don’t be a fool, Lukas,” Lukas whispered. He wasn’t in the plains with his cousin. He wasn’t about to die. He was in Arkhen, watching the contest to replace Marcellus as Archon.

  Lukas took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could still hear the sand moving in the arena. It couldn’t be the same; there was no way. The sand had triggered only a memory; he tried to convince himself.

  There was no way the one who killed Marcellus was here. Sorana wouldn’t have allowed the murderer of her Archon to participate in the fight, would she? Of course not, Lukas told himself. That would be madness.

  Lukas took a moment to control his breathing and calm himself. It was difficult as his mind replayed Marcellus’s death over and over again. The red sand, the power that had shot towards them repeatedly as men fell around Lukas, never left his eyes as he stood there. The panic still made his mind run, but he persisted and attempted to calm himself.

  It isn’t the same, he chanted to himself.

  Lukas surveyed the storm of sand encircling him, forcing arrows from the air as Sabine struggled to secure the final hit. He glanced around, noticing no one had witnessed his brief panic attack. Everyone, including the servants, remained intensely focused on the fight below. Or perhaps they kept their knowledge to themselves.

  Lukas forced himself to refocus on the sand. Another wave of panic surged, but he clung to the power within him and compelled himself to watch. It was different. No red lightning was streaking through the energy that had defeated his cousin. Yet, it echoed in his mind, triggering the memories.

  The urge to flee persisted as he watched, but he refused to look away. He would not run; he would confront this fear head-on.

  __________________________________________________________________________________

  Reza watched in perplexity as the duel progressed. Its unusual start had left him uncertain of what to expect. Sabine had gained two hits and was only one more away from victory. However, Reza knew this was far from over. Tannic had been playfully taunting Sabine, and his impressive power now kept her at bay effortlessly.

  “Bloody echoes, Sabine! Get one of these damn arrows in there!” Reza shouted, but no one responded. Everyone in the box remained focused on the fight. Even Lord Rewan, who usually erupted in roars, was silent.

  The sand accumulated around Tannic, forming large fist-sized balls within the storm. These balls began to shoot out towards Sabine, forcing her to dive out of the path of one that struck the arena’s wall, sending pieces of bricks flying everywhere.

  Sabine stood up and attempted another shot from one knee. However, it never went off. Another ball flew towards her and struck her arm, shattering the bow and her arm. A soft white glow emanated from her.

  No! Reza looked in horror as Sabine’s arm fell limp, the forearm positioned unnaturally at her side. The crowd’s noise drowned out any screams of pain, but even from this distance, Reza could feel the howls coming from her. His mind raced for her to do something.

  Sabine, get up now! He wanted to scream, but he held back. He gripped the rail harder, his knuckles turning white from the effort.

  Sabine stood, but a torrent of sand surged from the storm, snatching her legs from beneath her and causing her to collapse onto the ground. “Sabine, move! Get up!” Reza urged.

  Reza knew this was dire; Tannic was going to win. The storm subsided, and Tannic slowly approached Sabine. As he passed, he drew one of his swords closer to her. Sabine attempted to flee, but the sand held her captive, forming chains around her limbs and waist. It immobilized her as she struggled to break free.

  As Tannic drew nearer, Reza was compelled to witness Sabine’s helplessness against him.

  Tannic gazed down at her as if addressing her before his boot struck her leg with a deafening crack heard across the arena. Sabine let out a piercing scream that reverberated through the crowd, accompanied by a soft white glow emanating from her.

  Damn him to the abyss. Reza seized hold of his power, summoning Elana to his aid. Tannic fixed his gaze on the box, a sinister smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He drew his sword and began to stab downward, aiming for Sabine, who was defenseless and unable to surrender through her anguished cries from the broken leg.

  Without hesitation, Reza unleashed his power, drawing one of his daggers. He swiftly caught Tannic’s sword as it descended towards Sabine, then swiftly switched blades, flaring his power again. With the dagger at Tannic’s neck, he declared, “I’ll kill you if you dare to try that again.”

  The crowd fell silent, stunned by the unfolding events. Reza sensed everyone's intense gaze on them but ignored it, focusing only on the man before him.

  “So, you would attempt to disrupt a sacred contest of the Lady Sorana, Marius?” Tannic responded, seemingly indifferent to the dagger at his neck.

  Reza swiftly scanned the surroundings, ensuring his safety from behind. However, the sand had vanished.

  “I don’t care about their sacred contest. Sabine?” Reza asked. Sabine was breathing rapidly through gritted teeth but no longer screaming. She remained silent for a long moment, and he wasn’t sure if she had heard him. He desperately needed this to be over. She had to surrender.

  “Sabine?” he asked once more. It was a challenge to keep his tone calm. He wanted to just pull his dagger across the men's necks and end this, but he knew he could not and had to wait for their fight.

  “I surrender,” Sabine gritted through her teeth, a dark red glow intensifying.

  “You’ve won. Now release her and leave,” Reza allowed the dagger to fall as the sand fell from Sabine, returning the dagger to its sheath.

  Tannic turned briefly, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll see you again, Marius.” He began to walk away, not looking back at either Reza or Sabine.

  Reza remained silent, his gaze fixed on Sabine. The crowd, still in a state of confusion, stayed quiet. Not a voice could be heard. Reza disregarded the onlookers and picked Sabine up, trying to be as cautious as possible with her injured leg. He began to swiftly carry her to a healer, prioritizing her well-being over Tannic. Sabine slung her good arm over his shoulder and held the broken arm tightly against her body.

  “Please, Reza, get me out of here,” she whispered; pain crept into her voice, and she gasped several times as he carried her out.

  Reza quickened his pace, leaving the stunned crowd behind. A fleeting thought about the potential consequences crossed his mind, but he swiftly pushed it aside. Reza’s sole focus was on Sabine’s safety. He would grapple with the repercussions later.

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