Spiders hurried by underfoot. They gushed out of the Arena’s underbelly and skittered toward the stands, little legs churning the sand. Skit-skit-skit, so many he could hear them walking, so many they blackened the ground, uncountable, innumerable spiders.

“What is it with this week and spiders?” Spar asked, half-hysteric. He grabbed Twain and ran, dodging the spiders with nimble steps.

“Wait! Fell!” Twain pointed.

Fell stood in the center of the Arena, head bowed, lost in thought. Despite the hysteria around him, he remained completely focused. Light shimmered around his body, slowly condensing into a spell.

Saemel turned and rushed at him, mace held high. Behind him, a wave of spiders built, taller than he was. The spiders scurried at him, black wave churning with spider bodies.

“He’s a goner,” Spar said, staring at the wave.

Twain smacked him. “Go get him!”

Spar shuddered, then tossed his hair. “Dammit. Damn my gallant soul!”

Bright light burst from Spar’s body, even brighter than before. Under Twain’s grasp, human skin became short, bristly horse fur, Spar’s body widening into a barrel-chested unicorn’s. He grabbed ahold of Spar’s mane and clung on tight.

Spar sprinted at Fell. He stretched out his legs, lowered his head, and charged, all his force behind it. A stray kick knocked Saemel aside, the demon howling at the indignity. They raced for Fell as the spiders closed in on him.

Twain leaned down, reaching off Spar’s side, one hand twisted tight in the unicorn’s mane. Still as ever, Fell remained in the same pose, still focusing. The spiders loomed over him, blocking out what little moonlight there was. The wave crested, dripping spiders, about to fall on Fell.

“I’ve got you!” Twain scooped up Fell. The wave crashed down, spilling spiders in all directions. Spar leaped over the remnants of the wave and galloped on, chasing away from the center of the ring.

Twain yanked Fell up onto Spar’s back. The pillowcase slipped, sliding off Fell’s head. Golden-brown curls emerged, spilling out from the gap in the pillowcase.

“Fell—” Twain reached for the pillowcase.

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“It’s alright. You already knew, right, Mouse?”

Felix threw the pillowcase to the ground and shook out his curls. His eyes opened, beaming collected light out into the world. “Bring me back to the center of the Arena. I can purify it.”

Twain stared. I had no idea. I’m so sorry, Your Majesty.

Felix looked at him expectantly. Twain cleared his throat. “Er, yes. Of course. Enough with all the charades, right?”

He pretended to throw something off and quickly cast an illusion, taking on Mouse’s proportions. My voice, what about my voice? He pressed his lips together, mind reeling. After a second, he smiled. “Forgive the gruffness of my voice… the potion won’t wear off for another few hours.”

Felix nodded, beaming at him. “I knew it was you. After you said you’d send men, I knew you’d do it yourself. But I couldn’t let you brave the Arena alone! I know I got in your way more than anything, but…”

“All water under the bridge, Your Majesty.” Mouse smiled. Mentally, he went through the past few days, half-panicking. Shit. Did I say anything stupid? Do anything I can’t explain away? Oh no, the club… oh, fuck, I’m so fucked. “Aha, it’s been a wild few days…”

“We can talk later. For now, let’s get to the center of the Arena!” He patted Spar and looked down at the unicorn. “I had no idea you had a human form. Why did you never take it on, all these years?”

Spar shifted awkwardly under them and somehow managed to convey staring at his feet in desperate silence.

Mouse coughed. “I don’t think he deliberately kept it from you, Your Majesty. It just, er, never came up.”

A huge mace crashed down behind them, so close the spikes grazed Spar’s flank. Screeching in pain, he reared and wheeled, racing away from the threat. Saemel chased after them, roaring. Despite Spar’s speed, Saemel kept close pace, never far behind.

In the distance, a small blue figure chased Saemel, her hair billowing back from her face. “Mare!” Mouse shouted.

She glanced at him, eyes wide.

“Get out of here! You’re in danger!”

Mare shook her head. She pointed at Saemel, a determined look on her face.

Mouse grit his teeth in frustration. Doesn’t he hurt you? Why don’t you give up on him already? “You can’t save him! He’s going to kill you!”

She ignored him and chased Saemel. Her hands blurred, and two steel fans materialized in her grasp. One slash, another. Wind lashed out at Saemel, cutting thin lines into his back.

Saemel chased after Spar and Mouse, ignoring the attack.

“Spar, can you kite him away from the center? We need to be near the center of the Arena when Felix casts the spell,” Mouse said, leaning low over Spar’s neck.

“I can do my best,” Spar muttered. He shook his head and glanced over his shoulder, big, watery blue eyes taking in Saemel’s overburdened frame.

Felix threw out his hand toward Mare. Mouse caught it before he could cast a spell. “Your Majesty, the threat is too immense for us to worry about any one life. Purify the Arena first, then we’ll rescue Mare. She knows what she’s doing.”

A wall of spiders rushed at Mare. She jumped into the air, swinging the fans again. A wave of wind knocked them back.

Felix hesitated, then nodded. “I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

“The fastest way to help the most people is to focus on that purification spell! Let Spar and I handle the rest.”

Taking a deep breath, Felix nodded and closed his eyes.