The Arena’s Secret
The arena was eerily quiet at night, its vast stone corridors empty and cold. Eryon slipped inside under the cover of darkness, his instincts pulling him toward the source of the strange energy that had been gnawing at him since the tournament began.
The deeper he went, the heavier the air became. The scent of earth and decay grew stronger, mingling with something metallic—like old blood. His wolf stirred uneasily, the power radiating from the lower levels pressing against his senses.
When he reached the lowest chamber, he stopped in his tracks. The floor was covered in jagged runes, their faint glow casting an eerie light over the space. Scattered across the ground were skeletal remains, their forms unmistakably lupine.
His stomach churned as he stepped closer, the realization settling over him like a weight.
“It’s a burial ground,” Lyra’s voice broke the silence, startling him.
Eryon turned sharply to see her standing in the doorway, her expression grim.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice low.
“I could ask you the same,” Lyra replied, stepping into the chamber. She knelt beside one of the skeletal remains, her silver eyes scanning the runes. “The energy here… it’s feeding your wolf. That’s why you’ve been stronger during the matches.”
Eryon clenched his fists, his unease growing. “Then it’s only a matter of time before someone notices.”
Lyra nodded, pulling a small alchemical talisman from her belt. “We can siphon the energy into this,” she said. “It’ll stabilize you. But it’s dangerous.”
“How dangerous?” Eryon asked, his voice tight.
Lyra didn’t answer directly. She moved to the center of the runes, placing the talisman carefully on the ground. “Just trust me.”
Eryon hesitated but nodded, stepping back as Lyra began to chant. Her voice was steady, but the strain was evident as the runes flared brighter, their light pulsing in time with her words.
The talisman glowed faintly, its energy growing stronger as it absorbed the power from the burial ground. But the process was taking its toll on Lyra. Her hands trembled, her breaths growing ragged as the runes’ light grew blinding.
“Lyra, stop,” Eryon said, stepping forward.
“I can do this,” she gritted out, her silver eyes flashing.
The final surge of energy nearly knocked her off her feet, but the runes dimmed as the talisman absorbed the last of their power. Lyra collapsed, her strength drained.
Eryon caught her before she hit the ground, his chest tightening. “Lyra!”
Before she could respond, a voice rang out from the doorway, cold and unrelenting.
“No more lies.”
Eryon turned sharply, his wolf snarling as Adrian stepped into the chamber. His crimson eyes gleamed with anger and suspicion, his posture rigid.
