The roar of the crowd was distant at first, a low thunder behind the wall Serah had built inside her mind. Her pulse was steady, her breathing calm—but within, a fire kindled. Not of rage. Not yet. But of purpose.
She flexed her fingers at her side, feeling the embered warmth pulse through her palm. This time, don't burn out, she told herself.
She could still feel the heat of Iris's battle lingering in the stone of the arena, could still hear the echo of Mira's bladesong dissipating like the last note of a funeral dirge. And now it was her turn.
No mistakes. No holding back.
Above, the crystal amplifiers flared as the announcer's voice rang out, sharp and clear:
"Welcome, Starborn and honored guests! The Second Round of the Tournament of Starlight begins now!"
The coliseum erupted with applause, cheers, and banners glowing with the marks of every house. A storm of color swirled in the seats, and the energy in the air shifted—something sharper, charged with tension. This was no longer survival. This was a climb toward glory.
"Opening the second round… a duel of raw force and volatile fury! On one side: Varek of the Skybound—bearer of the Star of Voltage!"
The ground trembled as Varek stepped onto the arena floor, arcs of electricity dancing around his body, lighting his eyes with a volatile gleam. The crowd surged again, especially from the Skybound section, chants of his name shaking the stone stands.
"And facing him—Serah of Orion's cohort, bearer of the Star of Cinders!"
When Serah stepped forward, the wind shifted. Ash curled in the air around her like smoke from a smoldering battlefield. She didn't raise a hand, didn't wave. She just walked, focused. Controlled.
But deep inside, the fire was rising.
Their eyes met across the ring. Varek smiled—cocky, confident. Serah gave nothing back.
You want fire? she thought, stepping into her mark.
Then burn with me.
The arena quieted as the final echoes of the announcement faded into the ash-laced breeze. Opposite her, Varek rolled his shoulders with an almost lazy confidence. Sparks snapped and hissed along his arms, dancing between his knuckles as if eager to leap free.
Serah said nothing at first.
The two of them stood in the center of the vast ring, the world around them suspended in a breathless hush. For just a moment, it felt like no one else existed.
"I figured they'd save you for later," Varek said, his voice smooth, edged with amusement. "Guess they wanted a little heat to warm up Round Two."
Serah's expression didn't change. "You'll feel it soon enough."
Varek chuckled. "Good. I was starting to get bored."
He crouched slightly, electricity rippling outward in sharp pulses. "I heard what you did in the first round. Scorched the ground. Made a crater. You burned so bright."
"And?"
"And I want to see it. All of it. No holding back, fire girl."
Fire girl.
The words almost tugged a smirk from her lips, but instead, Serah closed her eyes for half a second.
Ash to breath. Flame to heart. I don't burn out. I become.
Selene's voice wasn't there. Neither was Orion's. Not Iris. Not even Azrael's unsettling silence. Just the steady build of pressure in her chest—the rhythm of her heartbeat syncing with the slow swirl of cinders rising around her feet.
For me. This one's for me.
She opened her eyes again. "You'll get what you asked for," she said. "But don't beg me to stop when the ground starts melting."
Varek grinned like lightning just before a storm.
The crowd felt the tension shift—cheers rising, pulsing like a living tide.
High above, the announcer raised a hand, voice booming once more:
"Combatants ready?"
Serah didn't move. Just breathed.
"Begin!"
And the storm met the flame.
The moment the word rang out, Varek surged forward—no hesitation, no warning. A burst of voltage cracked beneath his feet as he blurred across the arena, electricity wreathing his arms and lashing the air like hungry serpents.
Serah stood still.
Then, at the last possible breath, she moved.
A sharp inhale. A twist of her heel.
Ash erupted in a swirl, and Varek's punch passed through smoke and nothing.
Ashwalk.
She reappeared behind him mid-spin, her heel streaking flames as it aimed for his back. Varek twisted—fast—and her leg slammed into a charged forearm. Sparks clashed with embers in a burst of light and heat that made the front rows flinch.
He slid back, skidding across stone. "That all you got?"
She didn't answer. She was already on him.
Serah pressed forward, fists burning, trails of searing heat sweeping through the air as she unleashed a flurry of strikes. Her movements weren't elegant—they were fierce, raw, forged in fury. She was a wildfire barely held in human form.
Varek blocked with snapping bolts, his skin crackling, his muscles twitching with stored energy. He didn't try to match her flame with flame—he redirected it, letting the current twist around her strikes, forcing her to dance through arcs of lethal lightning.
The crowd was on its feet now, roaring, the stands alive with chaos.
One strike connected—Serah's fist to his ribs, a pulse of cinders exploding on contact—and Varek hissed, staggering back. Smoke rose from his tunic. But he grinned through the pain.
"Good," he said, his eyes alight with static. "Now let's turn up the voltage."
He slammed his palms together, and the entire arena floor lit with lines of blue. The stone cracked, spiderwebbing beneath their feet, arcs of lightning crawling like veins toward Serah's stance.
She narrowed her eyes.
No running. Burn through it.
She bent her knees. Flame gathered at her heels. Her body glowed from within like a coal on the verge of ignition.
Then she leapt—straight into the storm.
She soared into the air, ash trailing from her boots like wings of smoke. The lightning converged beneath her—Varek's trap primed to catch her the moment she fell.
But Serah didn't fall.
She ignited.
A deep, guttural roar tore from her throat as flame erupted from every pore. Her outline shimmered in molten gold, her fists wreathed in wildfire. The air warped around her with the heat.
Cinderbrand.
The sigil on her shoulder pulsed—glowing like a brand freshly forged—and her entire being answered the call.
She dove.
The sky cracked open behind her as she fell like a meteor, heat clashing against lightning, fury crashing into voltage. Varek raised his arms, a barrier of charged energy forming too late.
Serah's punch shattered it.
The explosion lit the arena in a blast of orange and blue, flame and thunder mingling in a chaotic bloom. Spectators shielded their eyes from the glare, from the raw, radiant force of it.
When the smoke began to clear, the stone beneath them had melted to glass. Varek was on one knee, scorched, panting. Serah stood above him—shoulders heaving, flames licking at her boots.
No words.
Just flame. Just breath.
Just the silence before the next strike.