The pit was a blur of splinters and screams. Kaelen stayed low, using his small stature to his advantage. He didn't strike to hurt; he struck to trip, to deflect, and to survive.
Then, he saw her.
A girl, no older than him, with hair the color of midnight and eyes that looked like shattered glass. She was moving with a grace that shouldn't have been possible for a child. She wasn't just surviving; she was hunting.
She swung her staff, taking down a boy twice her size with a precise strike to the temple. She turned toward Kaelen, her gaze locking onto his.
For a moment, the world slowed down. Kaelen felt a pull he couldn't explain—a spark of recognition. She saw him not as a child, but as an equal.
She lunged.
Kaelen parried, the wood vibrating against his bones. He rolled, sweeping his staff at her ankles. She jumped over it, spinning in mid-air. They traded blows for a minute, a dance of shadows in the dirt.
"Enough!" Vane shouted.
The pit went still. Only eight children were left standing. Kaelen and the girl were the only ones who weren't bleeding heavily.
"You two," Vane said, pointing at Kaelen and the girl. "Names."
"Kaelen," he said, chest heaving.
"Lyra," the girl whispered, her eyes never leaving Kaelen's.
"You will be partners," Vane said. "In the Veil, your partner is your life. If one fails, both die. If one betrays the other, I will peel the skin from your bones myself."
As they were led to the barracks, Lyra leaned closer to Kaelen.
"I could have killed you," she whispered.
Kaelen looked at her and gave her a tired, middle-aged smirk. "You could have tried. But I've already died once. I'm not in a hurry to do it again."
Lyra frowned, her curiosity piqued. The suspense of their bond was just beginning.