The chaos in the arena reached its climax when the guards of the House of Shadows drew their swords. Evan stood over the duke's body, his scarlet blade still glowing in the predawn twilight. The screams of the crowd merged into a single hum, but his mind worked with cold clarity, analyzing every element of the situation.
"Betrayal!" A voice from the Shadowy retinue rang out. A tall man in armor with purple stripes stepped forward. "D'arclent violated the terms of the duel!"
Evan slowly lowered his sword, feeling the unusual energy that had turned his flame purple still pulsing through his veins. He glanced at the black arrow sticking out of the duke's chest. A subtle pattern could be seen on the shaft — stylized waves of the House of Winds.
"I wonder," he muttered, "when did the House of the Winds start making poisoned arrows?"
Lord Artorius rose from his seat, his voice rolling over the arena, drowning out the noise.:
"Everyone stay put! This murder will be investigated!"
But the Shadow Guards were already moving toward Evan, their swords gleaming in the morning light. He counted twelve warriors, too many for a simple escort to a duel. They were preparing for this.
Kai appeared next to him, his own sword already drawn.
"Go to your father," he whispered. "It's a trap."
Evan smiled. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword. "I know."
The first of the attackers rushed forward. Evan met his blow, feeling the strange energy in his veins reacting to the threat. His blade flashed even brighter, and when the steel began to touch, the opponent's purple flame went out, as if absorbed by a stronger fire.
"What are you..." — the warrior began, but Evan had already made a lightning lunge, his sword left a deep cut on the opponent's thigh. He collapsed with a scream.
The second and third attacked at the same time. Evan jumped back, feeling his body move with unnatural grace, as if someone was guiding every muscle. His sword drew a complicated arc in the air, parrying both blows at once, and then counterattacked. Two bodies fell to the sand.
The crowd roared. Someone was shouting about witchcraft, someone was shouting about betrayal. Evan saw Lord Artorius giving orders to his guards, as Kai tried to make his way through the crowd to him. But it was all a blur—his mind was focused on a strange sensation in his chest. Something was awakening. Something that was hidden deep inside this body.
The fourth warrior was more skilled than the previous ones. His strikes were precise and fast, and the violet flame on the blade burned steadily. Evan retreated, studying the opponent's style. Suddenly, he noticed movement from the side—another warrior was preparing to stab him in the back.
At that moment, time seemed to slow down. Evan felt warmth spreading in his chest, and then a sharp, cutting pain, as if something was tearing out. His blade flashed with a blinding scarlet light, and when he made a sweeping blow, flames burst out of the steel, turning into a wave of fire that knocked down five attackers at once.
Silence. Even the screams of the crowd died down for a moment. Evan stood panting, staring at his weapon. None of the d'arclents could release flames from a blade—it was... impossible.
"Witchcraft!" Someone shouted. "He's not one of us!"
Lord Artorius raised his hand, and a dozen archers of the House of Flame drew their bowstrings, aiming arrows at Evan.
"Drop the sword," my father ordered. His voice was firm, but there was something else in his eyes-fear? Recognition?
Evan looked at Kai. His brother was in a fighting stance, but his sword was pointed... Against Father's archers?
"I'm not giving up," Evan said calmly. "Not the one who set this trap. And not to those who believed in her."
He took a step back to the center of the arena. His fingers found a small mirror in his pocket, the one he had taken from Walter. It was icy to the touch, despite the heat of battle.
At that moment, a scream rang out from the west tower. All eyes turned to see a figure in a white cloak standing at the top, holding a bow in his hands. Killer.
"Shoot!" Lord Artorius commanded.
The arrows soared into the air, but the figure on the tower disappeared as suddenly as it appeared. And when the archers turned back to the arena... Evan was gone, too.
There was only a small mirror lying on the sand where he had been standing, cracked exactly in the middle.