Chapter 14: Day One

SIENNA

Day one:
The sun is barely rising when Astrid is already getting up, more energetic than ever. It warms my heart to know that her happiness is genuine and that her mind is free from those atrocities.

For me, it’s different. Every night, I wake up with that damn loop repeating in my head—a nightmare I want to escape but can't. Astrid notices. In time, that cursed memory will fade, and this will just be another scar among the many that bastard left me.

We get ready, eat a quick breakfast, and when we step outside, Bastian and the handsome captain (no, he’s not handsome, focus) are waiting for us.

—Good morning, fire and night —he chuckles, his eyes gleaming.

Astrid scoffs:

—Hey, don’t mock us. If we win that cup, you’ll be begging us to stay with you. After that, we’ll be the most sought-after players in all the Courts. Don’t you think, Sisi?

—Yeah, yeah, sure, As, whatever you say.

She huffs, and I laugh. We head toward the coliseum.

Once inside, I notice that every player is gathered with part of their team—members of their respective courts.

Distracted, I once again collide with a wall. Shit. Twice in less than 24 hours. I'm starting to think the problem is me.

—Turns out the little pixie is human after all —a deep, mocking voice breaks the moment.

I lift my head and take him in. His height, the way his black hair curls under the light, the fierce intensity of his crimson gaze. My body freezes for a fraction of a second. He’s eerily similar to the giant who hunted me that night in the forest. The way he sniffs the air, as if capturing every fragment of my essence, sends a shiver down my spine. His features, his gestures—everything is disturbingly familiar.

Someone calls him from the other side of the arena.

—Drosk! —a firm voice shouts.

The name echoes in my mind, and the final piece clicks into place. The firstborn of the Fire Lord. Now I know for sure.

He watches me with a crooked smile, as if he’s read my thoughts. My skin still tingles under his deep, piercing gaze—an analysis I can’t tell is curiosity or a silent challenge.

—I'm starting to think you're getting obsessed with this pixie —I say, not knowing where I find the nerve.

Drosk narrows his eyes, and his grin stretches into something predatory.

—Interesting prey is always worth hunting with patience —his voice is a sharp whisper, like a blade gliding over skin.

A chill runs down my spine before Bastian shouts my name. I seize the opportunity to break eye contact and turn away.

—Sienna, Sienna, such a small name for someone so small —Drosk taunts as I walk off.

—Idiot —I mutter, continuing forward.

Bastian stops me and says:

—Stay away from anything related to the Fire Court, got it? And if you get the chance in the game—kill him.

He looks at me intensely, and I tense up.

—It's an order —he repeats.

—Yes, sir —I say automatically.

—It’s not just your life, Sienna, it’s Astrid’s too —he says.

—Do you think I don’t know that? —I say through clenched teeth—. I’ll protect her with my own life. I thought that was clear.

He lets go of me, his gaze softening.

—Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just stressed.

I turn and walk toward Astrid, who is busy telling her incredible stories to our companions, all captivated by her aura.

—Oh, Sisi, I was just telling them about the time you hunted that deer—the one that ran you over first, and you landed flat on your ass. It was hilarious.

She laughs, wiping tears from her eyes as the others join in. I roll my eyes and say:

—Alright, let’s go, crazy goat.

—Welcome to the first trial of the Mortal Games —the announcer declared in a powerful voice—. AIR! Only the swiftest, the cleverest, will overcome this challenge. You will run, jump, and battle the winds. If you fall… —his smile widened— you fall forever.

The stands roar with the anticipation of the first day. Thousands of eyes are fixed on us—nobles, warriors, heirs of the Four Courts—all eager to witness the opening battle. They want blood.

Astrid stands beside me. Her face, though calm, doesn’t completely hide the subtle tremor in her fingers. My beautiful As is not a killer, but her decision to compete is firm. I feel the pressure, the weight of the silent pact we made. Together or nothing.

The arena had transformed. It was no longer a simple stone coliseum but a floating chaos of platforms suspended in the air, some stable, others barely hanging by invisible threads of wind. Wild currents lashed through the open spaces, creating a deadly maze where a single misstep meant plunging into the abyss.

My heart pounded as I took my position beside Astrid. Vaelis, the warrior of the Air Court, flashed us a confident smile from his spot. Naeris, from the Water Court, stretched his arms with unsettling calm. And Zareth, from the Fire Court, simply watched us with an expression I couldn’t decipher.

—We survive —Astrid whispered beside me—. There’s no other option.

—We survive —I repeated, feeling the adrenaline take over.

The horn sounded for the third time. And then, we ran.

My feet barely touch the first platform when a violent gust slams into me, trying to rip me off the edge. Instinct forces me to bend my knees, crouch, and push forward. The stone beneath my boots vibrates with a strange, living magic, as if the very structure is challenging me.

Behind me, Astrid moves with feline agility, light as a shadow. But the other competitors have advanced as well. To my right, the warrior from the Water Court moves with a hypnotic fluidity—his movements are swift and precise, as if he’s gliding rather than stepping. To my left, Zareth, the warrior from the Fire Court, is a wall of muscle and strength, his jumps carrying him far with overwhelming power, each landing thundering as if the earth itself acknowledges his presence. Each competitor advances with their own skill, relying not on magic but on pure ability and endurance.