Of all the battles I've fought
Of all the lives I've taken
Of all the people I've lost
The crowd was uproarious, singing their bloodlust with voices hoarse from shouting. The ground pounded with the hooves slammed rhythmically into the sand, drumming out the beat of her steady heart. Through the cacophony and wild pleasure Castalla stood perfectly still, perfectly quiet. In her sensitive ears the thunder of the crowds had died down to background noise, the gentle orchestra to her concentration. To them this was entertainment, a night of violence and chaos. To the assassin this was little more than a normal Wednesday night, a perfectly ordinary workout. Already she was sizing up her opponent, another mare with a gaze hungry for blood. There was something unchecked in the mare’s earthen eyes, a kind of fear that had nothing to do with the pain of battle. Castalla had seen that kind of obscured fear in the eyes of many before her, the fear of failure, of her life riding on this victory. But it was not for her to know and it would be as fair as she could make it, Castalla would guarantee that. She left her opponents breathing, which was more than could be said for some combatants.
For a moment the impending battle harkened back to another fight, another arena. Fear stabbed at Castalla’s heart as it was a world of black stone and blood-scented shadows that surrounded her not brown dirt and sandstone tunnels. A familiar opponent faced her, his eyes filled with the same pain, the same terror and wildness as her own. This fight was to the death, to an end that was better than whatever King Oranus had concocted for them next. Friend against friend, sister against brother, Princess against Commander.
Not now. Not now. Not now. That voice in her mind whispered. The only dagger to penetrate the terrible vision before her eyes. Her nightmares were now waking- the very images she avoided sleep to escape, it seemed they followed her to the waking world too. But the wolf was lost, wholly given over to hallucination. Until…
Until she felt muscle connect with her chest, felt her body careening backward and heard the joyous jeers of spectators. Suddenly the suffocating noise of the Solterran underground was a blessing, a spear that stabbed through the silence of her past.
Castalla coughed the dust that had filtered into her throat, regaining her balance and narrowly dodging a kick as she blinked rapidly, clearing the lingering images. Instinct blessed her in that moment, her mind still reeling but her body well trained enough to slide left and right, jump back and forth.
Regaining her composure, the Wolf fixed her opponent with brilliant blue eyes, forming a strategy within moments. She was like a dancer, weaving smoothly in and out of reach, striking like a snake when the other mare was vulnerable. For her part, the other woman got in a few good hits and Castalla felt that familiar ache of bruised muscles and torn skin. Then it was over, the other mare pinned to the ground and Castalla breathing heavily atop her. With little aplomb, and ignoring the shouts of victory from those who’d bet on her, Castalla left the ring, melting into the crowd until she spied a familiar face…
@Tenebrae <3
