The air inside the fighting hall was hostile. Nett and the rest of Leah’s students eyed her like hawks would do their next meal, like she had committed treason. Pack on one shoulder, the Lead instructor walked past the glaring pebbles into the first arena and a waiting right-hand busy practicing her stance. Is this how you felt, Max? When we turned on you. Nett didn’t speak as Leah laid open her bag, letting out the long, white coils of cotton fabric and tying them around her hands. No one else spoke as she took a position opposite her second, and took on a stance of her own, that of fluid stone, like the Green Hellion had instilled in her. We had taught them all better than that. The Time for talk was past, and will come again, but was and will never be now. The Halfling Halva, their newest and youngest student, walked to the line separating the arena from the rest of the hall, equidistant from both her teachers and shot them both disapproving frowns before kissing three of her fingertips and raising them to the sky.

“A challenge has been issued. A challenge has been accepted. To the victor goes the Martio-Scholastic Order of the Le’Chereteshu. To the loser goes permanent banishment. So I pronounce and witness in [Oshvepertha]’s stead. May the Slumbering Mother have mercy on your souls.” Her amplified voice shook near the end, but overall, did more than serve its purpose. We both nodded to her before we could catch ourselves. Our gazes locked afterwards, and I refused to listen to the nagging voice in my head trying to yell at me for what I was about to do. “BEGIN!” A halfling bellowed, and without a word, her instructors failed her in the worst way they could: by exercising a violent disunity between oneself, these two who had once been proud to call each other blood-sisters.

They paced around the arena, a minute, two minutes, three—no eyes for anyone else in the hall but each other; fast breaths, when they should’ve been slow. Leah broke first, walking toward Nett. Her pupil. Memories of her first day in the academy trying to take the Ranger. She punched them away. Nett missed her first blow. Missed her second. Headbutted her, then went for the knee. Leah didn’t miss the third, backing away afterward. Green below the challenger’s nose. Green above her Order-Head’s. They had reached first blood; no going back. They paced. A minute. Two minutes. Three. Leah tested her knee. Not broken, but sore. She could’ve lost, then and there. Her pupil could have beaten her. No, not her pupil. Her rival. Fluid stone. Nett broke.

She launched into a flurry of kicks at her side. Most people would do the obvious; try to catch her feet, make her trip. The reason she’d learned the technique in the first place. Leah didn’t fall for the gambit, waiting till the younger Pebble’s next kick before she rushed at her, landing a fist at her belly. Crying out, Nett headbutted again, landing one on the cheek. Almost harmless, doing nothing but disorienting the Challenged. Maximizing her opportunity, Nett put her fists to work, punching at Leah’s neck, chest, and arm before going low, lifting the Ranger up, and tackling her into the ground. They both groaned, hitting the concrete floor with a boom. Leah heard static. Ignored it. Nett crawled over her body, punching her ear, and going for a third headbutt. Leah rolled, grunting loud, grabbing her opponent’s neck with both hands, and tightening her grip.

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Let go. Of the woman who had betrayed her? Who was trying to take everything she’d built from her? Never! Her rival sent fists at her side. Leah didn’t even feel them. Didn’t let the jeers from Pebbles who should’ve known better influence her. She had one job to do in this ring. Eliminate the enemy. Nett abandoned the punches, tried to throw Leah off, like an angry horse that didn’t need any riders. But the Ranger again, was immovable. Refused to let go. Tightened her grip even harder. Watched as her rival’s life started to fade away. With no other recourse, the younger woman resorted to slapping at Leah’s hands and chest. Scratching at her face. The Challenged did not let herself feel it, or the jeers from her former students that she could still hear, or the Halfling that was currently trying to push her off of the slumbering traitor. Let go. NO!!! A few seconds. Just a few seconds, and the business would be over. She would accomplish the Danjuni’s job for it. She would kill her rival. Spittle from the younger woman’s mouth. She was trying to say something.

“Was it all a lie?” A voice behind her said. Halva. She managed to cut through. Make her feel, if only a little. “You two are supposed to be our sisters!”

A cut became a stab. The woman below her was dying. Not just a woman. Not just a rival. She released her grip, a tiny bit.

“Please,” her sister begged.

What was she doing? Leah’s hands left her neck of their own accord. Breathing fast, she moved off of Nett’s body, scrambling across the floor, hand touching the padded ground beyond the arena’s borderline. The fight had been lost.

Had been supposed to not involve death at all. What had she done?

Halva was holding her new Order-Head up, though both had their eyes on her. She’d tried to kill her. One of the only people she trusted. She could hear them all, the people she’d lost. Some murmured. Others heckled. She’d lost them all.

Nett cleared her throat: “The fight has ended. The Order is mine, Cheretesha. What say you [Witness]?”

“Nothing you haven’t said already. The Order Le’Chereteshu is yours,” Halva said.

Leah stood, went to her pack, picked it up and started walking away.

“The sanctity of the fight was tainted. Halva interfered. As such, I see the only way through our ordeal, a truce. There is a place for you here, still. Maybe not as my second, or third. But a position at the bottom-rung is still a position. All you have to do is give me your blessing.”

“For the last time, Annette,” Leah turned her head. “The Danjuni is a death sentence; and you are not ready for it. I will not be complicit in your death.”

Nett rubbed at her neck, and the forming bruises. “Funny words, those,” she said. “You would choose to start with a new order?”

Too close to [Graduation] for that. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Halva chimed in; “Council-member, please. Reconsi—”

“Begone then, Cheretesha. I pronounce you Exile of the Le’Chereteshu. Don't let us keep you.”

Leah gave a fake smile, and kept walking, step by step toward the door, all the while resisting the urge to flee.