The crowd roared all around the center ring. A silver mesh cage enshrouded the circular edges, the only real wall between Daimona and the two combatants. One was a man with the same stocky frame as Rik, his tan, muscular forearms glistening with sweat under the grand spotlight. The other was a scrawny teenage boy, with patches of green scales showing through the numerous rips in his brown rag clothing. Six long, feathery tendrils extended from his face, twitching with panic as the opposing soldier rammed into him with his elbow and sent him flying against the cage. The boy’s sweat and blood flung through the mesh and landed directly on Daimona’s cheek. She frowned with disgust as she swiped it away with her thumb.

  This spectacle wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. Daimona had pictured a worthy challenge, one where her opponent wouldn’t gasp and scramble away from her after every single step she took forward. If she had known she was just going to be punching down the whole time, she wouldn’t have taken Simon up on her invitation.

  “You’ll prove yourself with the whole base watching,” Simon told her, leaning over her chin resting on her folded hands and staring Daimona down. “That includes your captain, too. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Daimona snorted as the words came back to her, muttering under her breath, “Won’t be much to show anyone if they keep rolling out the rookies.”

  An ear-splitting screech erupted from the ring, and Daimona looked up just in time to see the soldier hoisting the green-scaled boy up by the throat. The boy’s mouth was dropped open, the sound emanating from his cavernous mouth. His eyes rolled back to show nothing but the whites. Blood spewed from every orifice, dripping down over the soldier’s arm. As the boy stopped twitching, falling limp at the soldier’s mercy, the soldier paraded his corpse around the ring, showing it off for the crowd to cheer at.

  The boy’s crumpled body held high for the world to see reminded Daimona of the impaled dog back in Linnstan. It seemed that whenever Fable wanted to make an example of something, they displayed it in gruesome mockery first. They weren’t going to eat the boy either, she realized, watching as a pair of attendants in black uniforms pulled the corpse out of the ring. It was just a waste. She wasn’t even sure what she was fighting for anymore. To be a good soldier to Fable? Or just to be liked by Will again?

  “I like you, Daimona. You’re very special to me.”

  Daimona’s blood ran cold as the Doctor’s wicked voice crept through her mind. That’s right, she thought, her heart pounding with her resolve. She and Norok had enlisted for one reason and one reason only, and it didn’t matter who she had to become or what she had to do to make it happen. She just needed to get stronger.

  Ushered into the ring by an attendant, Daimona looked around at the hundreds of blurry faces in the crowd. From somewhere high above her, beyond the swinging spotlight, a man’s voice announced, “Please welcome our newest challenger to the ring-- the Fanged Fury, Daimona!!”

  The crowd was a mix of jeers and applause as Daimona bared her fangs for all to see. Awkwardly the announcer added, “This private has been steadily making her way up our very ranks, so keep an eye on her folks-- this one bites!!”

  This time, applause overtook the crowd, people chanting her name as the attendants brought in her opponent. The man was uncomfortably tall, with a sallow face and stringy, white-blonde hair that hung in greasy clumps down to his shoulders. Great silver gauntlets locked his hands together, coming apart with a green glow and a smoky hiss as the attendants freed him.

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  “And for her opponent tonight,” the announcer’s tone shifted, pausing with exaggerated suspense, “it’s the undefeated mutt, the beast who’s taken your money time and time again, it’s the Winter Howl!!”

  The crowd protested loud enough to make Daimona wince. Half-eaten buckets of popcorn and military-issued boots were thrown at all sides of the cage as people screamed at the Winter Howl. He didn’t even seem to notice the hate all around him. Instead, his eyes were trained on Daimona, watching her with a blank, tired expression. She offered him a polite nod back.

  “Place your bets now, folks,” the announcer called. “This one’s gonna be a doozy.”

  Daimona shuffled on her feet during the pause that followed. The Winter Howl slowly dropped down into a split position, stretching out his legs and cracking his spindly fingers with a satisfied grunt. But his eyes never strayed from Daimona’s. The man was unnervingly creepy, Daimona decided, focusing her attention to the side to avoid further attention from her opponent. Warming up was for losers anyways, she thought smugly.

  After several minutes, the announcer spoke again. “And all bets have been locked in! Fighters!! You know what to do!”

  Daimona readied herself to end the match fast. One steady kick to the throat and this guy would go down like a rock in a pond, straight to the bottom with nothing to bring him back up. But as she turned back to look at him, the man’s piercing green eyes were now inches from her own, his pointed nose brushing her own.

  “Kelltoshik,” he said softly. And though Daimona didn’t understand the word, she could see in the somber frown he bore that it was some kind of apology. Then, his fist connected with her chin, and her eyes were blinded by the light.

  Daimona stumbled, the hit not enough to take her out of the fight but just enough to catch her off guard. The man appeared again to her left, fist outstretched for another punch, but Daimona leapt back into action and ducked out of the way. Grabbing him by the wrist, Daimona rolled and slammed him into the ground, leaving him there to gain some distance. By the time she had stood back up again, however, her opponent had vanished again.

  There was some kind of noise he made whenever he moved, Daimona thought. She could just barely make it out over the noise from the crowd, a low whistle coming from his ankles. If only everything could just be quiet, just for a moment, she might figure out where he’s coming from.

  Slowly, every other sound faded out, her magic circling her ears and plugging them methodically. Once all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing, Daimona closed her eyes, and listened carefully.

  The sharp whistle of wind came from behind, the sound of a sharp breath being taken just as the Winter Howl faded back into view. Daimona could hear everything now, even the sound of his magic fluttering away as he reeled back to attack her from behind. She dropped to the ground quickly, swinging her leg out and knocking him off his feet. The man fell with a pathetic yelp, cursing in his foreign language.

  “Neat trick,” Daimona mocked, then delivered one clean stomp to his throat. His head snapped to the side with an audible crack. The crowd went wild with hysterical shouts, all coming together to chant, “Finish him!! Finish the Howl!!”

  Daimona grinned and bowed, searching the crowd for the faces of her brother and their friends. As she squinted through the cheering faces, a green light caught her attention from the corner of her eye. A strange sigil carved into the man’s hand like a bad tattoo was pulsing. Before Daimona could examine it further, the Winter Howl began to convulse violently, bones shooting through his skin and fur rapidly growing all over his body as it morphed.

  “Here it comes,” the announcer shouted from above, “the very transformation that took the life of our last champion and earned this villain his title, the Winter Howl!”

  Daimona fell to her knees in shock as the creature towered over her, letting out a long, vicious howl and silencing the arena.