Blessing

The moment the Shadrith slammed into the stone wall, the air shifted. A sharp crack echoed through the pit, then another, as fractures webbed across the creature's spine and limbs. It didn't scream. It didn't even fall like something alive. It broke apart piece by piece, bones splintering like brittle wood until there was nothing left but a scattered heap whispering against the dirt.

The torches flickered. Then silence descended, heavy and cold.

I stood frozen, breath sharp in my throat. My body trembled, not with fear, but with something I didn't understand. Something rhythmic and powerful moved through me, a beat beneath my skin that didn't belong to my heart. It felt ancient, like the stars themselves had bled into my veins.

Somewhere in the stillness, a voice called out. A single cheer, cautious and unsure. Then another. Then dozens more. The silence cracked under a wave of sound.

"Alveretta!"

"The Flower Prince!"

"Fireboy!"

They were shouting my name, lifting it like a banner. The pit thundered with applause and praise. I barely heard them.

My feet moved backward instinctively, as if I could retreat from the noise, from the attention, from what I had just done. I had killed something that didn't belong in this world, something monstrous, and they wanted to celebrate me for it.

But I wasn't thinking about victory. I was thinking about the man who had pushed me in. Lucia's gasp was still ringing in my ears, the image of her arms outstretched in panic burned into my mind. The terror on her face wouldn't leave me.

My fists clenched.

I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the hands that tried to pull me in, ignoring the praise that seemed to cling to me like smoke. The light and the noise blurred into a single, suffocating fog.

All I could see was him.

The drunk.

The one who smiled when I fell.

He didn't look so smug anymore. He backed away as I approached, his face pale, his hands raised in a pathetic shield.

"I didn't mean nothing by it," he stammered. "It was just a joke."

My voice came low and raw. "A joke?"

"I was drunk, alright? I wasn't thinking. You're from the palace. I'm nobody. I was angry, that's all. It wasn't real."

He tripped over his own feet and fell into the dirt.

I raised my hand. I didn't know what I meant to do, only that something inside me wanted to act.

Something hot and unstable. The Blessing wasn't quiet anymore. It had stirred during the fight, but now it was awake. Alive. I wanted him to feel what I had felt. I wanted him to remember this moment every time he opened another bottle.

Then I felt her hand on my arm. Lucia.

"Joselyn," she said, steady and calm.

I didn't turn to her.

"He could have killed you."

"And if you strike him now, you'll be no better," she said quietly. "You don't want that. You're not that."

My breath hitched. Something in me recoiled, like I had been caught on the edge of a cliff with one foot already dangling.

I let my arm fall.

Lucia stood beside me without saying another word. Her presence was enough.

Then someone in the crowd yelled, "Let the boy fight again!"

Another joined in. "He's got fire in his blood!"

The noise surged back with renewed hunger. The pitmaster stepped forward, raising his arms to settle them.

"Who wants to challenge the boy next?"

Lucia turned to me, concern tightening her features.

"You're hurt," she said. "Your hands… I'm so sorry for bringing us—." Lucia paused. Contemplating the words that left her mouth. "For bringing you here…"

I looked down. My knuckles glowed with a faint ember red, and the light pulsed in my veins. It didn't burn, but it felt too alive. Too eager.

"I need to understand this," I said, more to myself than to her. "Whatever this is, it's mine now. I have to know what it wants."

She didn't answer at first. Her silence was full of hesitation, but then she gave a reluctant nod.

"One more," she said. "But that's it."

The crowd parted for my next opponent. He was massive, a wall of muscle and scars. Two jagged swords hung from his back, and he didn't even bother hiding his grin.

"They really want me to kill a prince?" he barked. "Fine. Let's see if flowers bleed."

We circled each other. He lunged, and I dodged. The motion sent a spark down my legs.

The energy from the movement didn't fade. It settled into me like kindling.

He struck again. I slipped past it. Another spark. Another layer.

When I finally moved to strike, my fist wasn't fast or wild. It was precise. And it was charged with everything I had stored.

He flew backward, hit the dirt, and didn't rise.

The next challenger was a woman with a steel-link whip and eyes that watched every inch of my body.

Her attacks came sharp and clean. She nicked my shoulder, then my thigh, then nearly wrapped around my wrist.

Each dodge added to the storm building inside me.

When I found my opening, I spun and let everything go.

My leg shimmered red, the air howled, and she dropped before the kick even made contact. Her hands lifted in surrender as her knees buckled.

The final opponent didn't give his name. He stepped from the shadows with silver armor and a black scarf covering his face.

No weapons.

No introduction.

He moved like he didn't need either.

His strikes were quiet, efficient. My lip split. My ribs throbbed. But I kept moving, and the Blessing took it all in like fuel.

Then I found my rhythm.

I flowed behind him and landed a single fiery elbow into his back. He didn't fall, but he stopped. Slowly, he raised his hand in silent defeat.

When it was over, the sun had started to rise.

The crowd didn't want to let me go. They threw coins, relics, even flowers. But Lucia came into the pit again, and this time there were tears in her eyes.

"You're shaking," she said. "You need to stop."

I looked at her. Then at my hands.

The fire pulsed once, then faded.

We left as the sun stretched over the fields beyond Paradise, casting gold across the valley.

Neither of us spoke at first. The silence between us was heavy but unbroken.

Eventually, she looked over and said, "You were amazing."

I kept my eyes ahead. "Was I scary?"

She paused, then answered, "No. But you didn't feel like you."

I nodded. Because she was right.

Whatever had taken root in me during that fight… it wasn't finished.

Not yet.