“She’s not invulnerable,” Scorio heard Leonis say. “She almost lost to Massamach.”
“No,” said Lianshi, hugging herself tight. “I think she let him hurt her just to hurry things up.”
Scorio turned to regard the distant sparring circle. Jova Spike stood alone, hands on her hips, head bowed as if in thought.
Did she even hear the cheers that were washing over her? Scorio crossed his arms and frowned. Didn’t look like it. He saw no relief, no celebration, no joy, no post-battle nerves. She looked as calm and serious and composed as ever, despite the cuts and blood and torn robes.
Looked like she was just waiting, now. Waiting for the arena to disappear so that she could get back to work.
Scorio felt a chill pass through him.
Was this the woman he’d promised to beat in the Gauntlet? One who only grew stronger the more wounded she became?
A sinking sensation of doom flowed into him, and he was only too glad when the world went dark, and the sight of the arena fell away.
Scorio sat up, blinking, as the basilica appeared around him. He felt conflicted. Sobered, withdrawn. Immediately voices arose in conversation all around him, tones both eager and chagrined, and everywhere knots of students formed to discuss the fighting.
But Scorio simply wrapped his arms around his shins and sat staring at nothing, his heart pounding slowly in his chest like a hammer knocking nails into a coffin.
“It’s worse than I thought,” he said, as Leonis and Lianshi drew close.
“What, exactly?” Leonis leaned his hip against the side of Scorio’s bier and frowned at him. “You’re coming to terms with my natural superiority?”
“Jova Spike.” He said the name carefully, as if its edges could cut his lips. “Her power as an Emberling is almost tailor-made for the Gauntlet. After a certain point, she’ll become almost immune to the damage each room will deal her. Barring chambers she can’t physically pass, she’ll be able to just slog her way through, unstoppable, able to shrug off damage that will slow the rest of us down, then kill us.”
“Yeah,” said Lianshi, voice quiet. “I’ve thought about that. A lot of the Emberlings have developed different ways to attack their foes, or even defend themselves from attacks. But Jova’s one of the few whose defense actually changes.”
“Which makes besting her all the more impossible.” Scorio sank his head into his hands and fought back the urge to groan. “Why’d I make that ridiculous wager with her?”
“To be fair, I’ve been asking myself that same question since you told us,” said Leonis. “And I think I’ve come up with an answer.”
Scorio looked up, skeptical.
“Because you thrive off impossible odds. I think there’s an element to being told you can’t do something that just sets you afire. In a sense, you have a version of Jova’s power.”
“How so?” asked Scorio, still wary, wondering if his friend was teasing him.
“Think of it this way: the more you’re oppressed, the harder you fight back. Jova grows inured to physical damage, right? And at a certain point, it becomes exponentially harder to hurt her. You’re the same, but instead of damage, it’s your will.” Leonis smiled sadly down at Scorio. “I think you’ll always thrive the most when someone’s got their boot on your neck.”
Scorio went to protest, then shut his mouth.
Fortunately, Praximar chose that moment to speak. “Students! What mighty feats of heroism and bravery we just witnessed! To those who lost the day, know that I am impressed that you made it this far, and you have much to be proud of. To our victors: congratulations! You shall pass into the next round and have two weeks in which to prepare for your next bout. Train, focus, and develop your strength—time is ever your most precious resource, so use it wisely.”
“Problem is,” said Leonis, turning back to them as Praximar lowered his arms, “I don’t quite see how you’re going to pull this one off.”
“Leonis,” hissed Lianshi.
“What? He knows it as well as I do. Lying won’t change the situation.” Students were beginning to drift away toward the exits, talking animatedly amongst themselves. “The equation simply does not add up. It’s not enough to make Emberling or overcome all his other troubles. He has to defeat Jova at the Gauntlet, and that’s…” He paused, clearly seeking a kind way to frame the situation.
“Impossible,” whispered Scorio, staring at his linked hands. “I know it. But this is what I must deal with. I’ll find a way.”
“And we’ll help you,” said Lianshi, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “You can count on us.”
“Sure,” said Leonis, giving a curt nod. “We’ll do whatever we can. You know that.”
“I know.” Scorio felt his eyes burn as he considered his friends. “You two were the best thing that happened to me.”
Lianshi’s eyes gleamed with tears as her cheeks colored. “I feel the same way.”
“Oh calm down,” said Leonis, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like we haven’t expressed this to each other before.”
“No, wait, I read something in one of my journals last night that really resonated with me,” said Lianshi, wiping at the corner of her eye with the base of her palm. “It was about a different group of Great Souls, but I wrote something like, ‘We are reborn without family, without past, without a sense of identity or knowledge of our former hopes and dreams. But our sole blessing is that we are not reborn alone, and each and every time can choose our friends, can choose our families.’”
Her words seemed to hang in the air between the three of them as she continued blushing. She ducked her chin, then visibly gathered herself and stood straight, squaring her shoulders. “And that’s how I feel. I don’t remember anything of my past. My parents. My home. My country. It’s all gone. It’s an aching void within me, just like it must be for you. A void that was once filled with… I don’t know, certainty and purpose. I lived my life in such a way that I became a hero, the Nun of the Red, Guardian of the Second Death, and Bestower of the Final Grace. I couldn’t have done that without drive, without an overriding purpose. And that purpose is now gone.”
She looked from Leonis to Scorio, face intent, words hurried, as if she feared being cut off, or unable to express herself fully.
“But instead, we can choose whom to love, whom to trust, whom to be family with. I don’t know why Asha spurns us so, but you two—you were the first faces I saw in this life, and in the Gauntlet, I saw your true worth. And I—I don’t take that lightly. I don’t know if it was fate, or destiny, or blind luck, but whatever it was, I mean to make the most of it. You two are all I have in this hell.” She shrugged a shoulder in an almost apologetic manner. “You’re my family. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you both.”
Scorio felt his heart jerk within his chest, a spasm that was just shy of painful, and his breath caught in his throat. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Lianshi’s shoulder and returned her smile.
Leonis’s own face had flushed, and he reached out as well, placing his hands on each of their shoulders so that they formed a triangle. “We are bound together, we three, and I hear and honor your words, Lianshi, once known as the Nun of the Red and Guardian of the Second Death. I, too, pledge to always hold you both in my heart and to do whatever I can to aid your causes. You have my word on it.”
Scorio again felt his heart tug, and inhaled shakily, his eyes prickling once more.
“I’m not one for words,” he said softly, “but thank you. Both of you. I promise the same to you both.” He paused, then smiled bitterly. “Though right now I seem to be the one in need. My help’s of little worth.”