The sterile chill of the arena's medical annex was a stark contrast to the roaring heat of the arena.
Aile sat on a padded bench, a blanket draped over her shoulders despite the lack of physical chill. Medics had poked and prodded, confirming bruises from the fall and minor scrapes from flying shrapnel, but no serious injuries.
The ruined bracer lay discarded on a side table, the fractured breastplate beside it, grim exhibits of the sabotage.
Eamond, Vale, Syd, Jake, Mira, Farrah, and Garret (looking pale but determined) crowded the small space, concern etched on their faces. The air hummed with suppressed tension, a quieter echo of the arena's outrage.
"Are you alright, Aile?" Mira asked, her voice small, breaking the heavy silence. "Really, alright?"
Aile flexed her left arm, wincing slightly at the stiffness where the bracer had been torn away. "Bruised. Shaken. Angry," she stated flatly, her gaze fixed on the shattered remnants of her borrowed sword propped against the wall.
