The Man In The Midnight Blue Suit

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tobias and I left his apartment, nothing but steel will leading us to the arena. Had there been another way, neither of us would have gone back.

I glanced at Gin from across the room, nodded ever so slightly at Katelyn. Tobias grabbed my hand, squeezed it tight in his grip before he left my side and went to stand by Hale, putting himself between him and me. It was then that I realised Scot was staring at me. He shoved past Gin and Katelyn, coming to walk beside me.
"So, today's the day." He quietly announced. I don't look at him.
"How much do you know, Scot?"
"I know that I'm an outlier. I don't fit into your plan."
"You could say that."
"That means I could hinder you. I mean, what if they use me against you? That would stop you in tracks."
"We were hoping you'd be intelligent enough to get out of here when the opportunity presents itself."
"What if it doesn't?"
I turn to face him, wanting to see his condescending face. "Stuff this up for us, Scot, and you can guarantee none of us will be forgiving."
"Then find a way to keep me safe when you begin your self-destruction."
My jaw is set, holding the tension in. Scot may be trouble when it suits him, but he's smart. He watches us and he knows how to keep himself safe – although I can't trust whether it'd be at our expense.
"Follow us when the time comes," I answer. Before he can object, we reach the arena.

The crystal walls mirror thousands of fragmented images back at me, of a girl with short, dark blonde hair, almond eyes and a face set in determination, just like when I first entered this room. This time, I'm determined it will be my last visit. The Elites step out onto the balcony above, their faces stern. Lucian looks down at me, his midnight blue suit complimented by the silver and white. He seems angered, disappointed. Today, I couldn't care less about what he thinks.

The silver walls of fire rise around us, separating me from those I trust. For now, I'm on my own. I don't know when we will be able to reach each other again. The challenge is uncontrollable. That makes it dangerous. It will define our success – or rather, lack of it.

As the silver walls of fire rise from the six-pointed star, the source of my challenge forms too. A form coloured the same as the walls of fire, built up from the swirls of grey in the marble floor. Bulbous at first, it grows in height, angles and curves defining the figure. When the shape becomes clear, the silver colour drains away, revealing the face. I was afraid to breathe as I recognized it. A human, with uneven brown skin and tangled black hair, sat at the far end of my little area. It was a woman, wearing a white dress, her face full of fear as she glanced around her. But I couldn't go near her. Her eyes were silver, hollow orbs lodged between bones where eyes, coloured blue or brown or green, should be. She looked like a human, but I couldn't tell if she was a person.

Her face looked towards me, and those silvery orbs invading her face saw me. She opened her mouth to scream, terror turned to rage, but no screams were heard. Instead, out of her cracked lips came the song of birds, many of them, chirping and tweeting and singing. The sounds became louder, and louder, and louder, piercing through my head, my body. Abruptly the chaotic song of the birds stopped, giving way to a single singer. The song of a single bird flooded out from the woman's mouth, stretched wide in a scream that never came. The birdsong stopped. There was a crack of tiny bones. And then the woman moved towards me.

It was a slow, laborious crawl. One arm reached out to pull herself forward while the other clutched a leg that dragged behind her at a marred angle. Her other leg tried to push her forward, but it was so skinny it seemed as if it would break at the tiniest weight, snapping in two like a spindly twig. I stood where I was. I couldn't move away and I certainly wasn't moving toward her. But I knew I couldn't stop her – couldn't throw her back and hold her off, couldn't hold her where she was, couldn't block her with my fire. I couldn't decide whether she was a shell, a trick of the competition, or if she was something real. For once, I didn't know what to do.