The gates of Dawnfire's central coliseum stood open for the first ti in years, towering pillars carved with silver and obsidian rose toward the sky like the ribs of a slumbering titan. Banners bearing the sigil of the Evermoon—twin crescent moons frad in a halo of stars—fluttered high above, catching the wind like sails of war.
Crowds funneled through the archways, nobles draped in jeweled silks mingling uneasily with wandering swordsn and cloaked spellcasters. The city thrumd with the fever of battle long before the first blow had been struck.
Adrien stood at the entrance, arms crossed, his eyes tracing the gilded runes that pulsed softly around the arena walls.
Damien gave a low whistle beside him. "This is bigger than I thought.""Told you it wasn't just a fighting pit." Adrien's voice was dry with amusent. "It's a parade of pride and delusion. And sowhere in there, a few worth watching."
Nyxaris padded beside them, ignored by most who mistook him for a shadow—until his crimson eyes flicked up at a passing noble, who promptly lost all color in his face.A fanfare of horns rang from within the coliseum, silencing the murmurs outside.
A crier in silver robes stepped forward atop the marble dais, voice ringing with magical projection. "Welco, champions and fools, heroes and hopefuls—to the Evermoon Tournant! May your blades be swift, and your deaths entertaining." The crowd roared. Adrien muttered, "That's subtle." Damien smirked. "Think we'll survive the warmup rounds?"
"I'm more worried about the politics than the blades." They stepped forward as the crowd began to filter into the registration halls—scribes, guild representatives, and enchanters working at a frantic pace as nas were logged and enchanted tokens handed out.
Adrien took the token with an arched brow. "Suppose this ans I'm official now." Nyxaris gave a huff, eyes glowing briefly as he stared at the sigil on the token. Damien held his up proudly. "Can't wait to knock a few egos down."
Adrien smiled faintly. "Just don't get knocked out first, champion." As they stepped deeper into the coliseum's heart, the gates closed behind them with a deep, echoing thud—like the closing of a Chapter, or the sealing of fate. The tournant had begun.
The preparation halls beneath the coliseum buzzed with tension—steel clashing softly against steel as contestants honed last-minute strikes, murmured incantations danced along the air, and egos stretched thin like drawn bowstrings.
Adrien leaned against the stone wall, arms folded, watching Damien spar lightheartedly with a lanky rogue trying to impress him with unnecessary flips. Nyxaris lay curled nearby, his mist-like form gently drifting like smoke, crimson eyes half-lidded but alert. Then ca the voice. "Well, well... the mystery rat crawled all the way in."
The tone was a sneer wrapped in velvet.
Adrien didn't need to look up to know it was Kael.
The guild enforcer stepped into the chamber with deliberate steps, his usual entourage at his back, faces smug and eyes gleaming with the kind of hunger only humiliation could satisfy.
Kael stopped a few paces from Adrien, glancing at Nyxaris, who raised his head and growled low enough to rattle the torches. "You're brave to bring that mutt into the Evermoon arena. Or stupid."
Adrien's gaze was calm, his voice flat. "You really enjoy hearing yourself talk, don't you?" Kael's smirk wavered for a mont. "You should know that accidents happen in tournants. Rules get... bent."
"Then I'll be sure to bring a hamr," Adrien said with mock concern. "To straighten things out." Behind Kael, one of his n shifted, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Nyxaris rose to his feet in a slow, fluid motion, mist swirling around his paws like coiled shadows.
Kael's lips curled. "You think you're untouchable because you've got a shadow pet and sharp tongue?" Adrien stepped forward, close enough for only Kael to hear. "I don't think I'm untouchable," he whispered. "I just know you're not the one to touch ."
Kael's nostrils flared. He looked like he wanted to strike, but the eyes of other competitors were already watching, and the Evermoon's first rule was clear—no blood before the match. With forced calm, Kael backed away. "Enjoy the early rounds, hero. You won't make it far."
Adrien offered a slight bow, sarcasm thick in his voice. "I'll try not to trip over your bruised pride."
Kael left, jaw tight, followers in tow. Damien returned, blinking. "What was that about?"
Adrien turned back toward the training circle, voice dry."Nothing. Just a walking bruise trying to talk."
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