“That was exciting!” Serena signed, walking out of the cutout.

In front of her, a battered and bloodied Jo leaned against an equally battered and bruised man – Simon, if she remembered right – as they slowly made their way towards the healer’s cutout. As they approached, Jo pulled her head up and looked at Serena as though it was the most difficult task in the world. She pushed off of Simon and wobbled the rest of the way forward.

“It was exciting watching me lose?” She asked, putting her hands on her hips. Serena rolled her eyes.

“You know what I meant.”

“Uh huh…sorry, little crabby on account of –”

“Me hitting her a bit too hard, my apologies.” Simon laughed awkwardly as he halted next to her. “Ma’am, would you mind seeing to our wounds please? We’re both a little…messed up.”

Serena stared back at Simon, eyeing him with suspicion. It may have been a mock fight, but it didn’t sit right with her that someone could be so polite after roughing up one of her friends. She almost didn’t want to heal the man at all. Luckily, Sosem stepped up and laid a hand on Simon’s shoulder. He pulled him past Serena and Jo, and through the cutout.

“Yes, yes, of course!” He said. “Healing the Major Captain of the Guard, why, that’s an honor in of itself! I would be…” Sosem’s voice faded as the pair walked further into the arched hallway, swallowed up in the bustle.

Jo moved to follow, only to stumbled as her foot dragged in the sand. Serena jumped and caught her in time, holding Jo up as she leaned against her.

“Whoops.” She mumbled. “Still wobbly.”

Serena shook her head and waited for Jo to steady herself. She looked as though she’d been through hell and back. Small cuts crisscrossed her arms and legs, all an angry red, slicing through her sleeves and pants. Her leather armor was stained crimson in spots, splattered with still damp blood. Jo’s face, however, had taken the brunt of the damage, her cheeks already bruising purple. A long cut was scored along her jaw, and though it had stopped bleeding, she’d smeared it across her chin, adding to her dirty and gritty look.

“You look awful.” Serena signed flatly.

“Of course, I do.” Jo shot her a nasty look. “You try going out there and fighting…whoever it is they want you to fight.”

“Probably shouldn’t do that. Werond wouldn’t like that.”

“Oh, so she’s the one wearing the pants.”

“What?”

Jo grinned. “Nothing. Now, let’s get off the sand. You’re ah…probably going to have to drag me.” Serena puffed as Jo leaned more of her weight against her, and was barely able to keep her from falling over. They slowly turned around and began to make their way back into the hallway, just as the next attendant stepped out onto the sands.

It took some time for them to weave their way through the commotion, doctors and clerics still shuffling about as they checked on their patients. Some of the other clerics had tried to relieve Serena’s burden, as her number wasn’t on rotation, but Jo managed to shoo them away. But by the time they found Sosem and Simon on a bench further in, Jo had almost yelled at no less than five clerics trying to heal her.

“Why the hell don’t they take no for an answer?” She grumbled as Serena helped her onto the bench. Simon sat next to her, in the process of taking his leather chest piece off, with Sosem on his other side, palms glowing gold.

“I guess they’re really strict on rotations” Serena shrugged.

“In a way.” Sosem glanced over at them. “They don’t want anyone overworking themselves. That’s how you get lawsuits.”

“Seems a bit much until you realize it’s the city doing that.” Simon said, undoing the last clasp. “Makes sense then. You want me to remove my shirt too?”

“That would be wise, yes.”

Simon began to tug on his shirt, though the fabric stuck to his arms where’d it had been cut, sticking with blood. Jo looked at Serena and smirked.

“I can take my shirt off too, but don’t tell Werond. I don’t want her getting mad.”

Serena rolled her eyes again as Jo laughed. She waved away her joke and began to undo the straps on her own armor.

“Sorry, laughing helps the pain.”

“Uh-huh.”

While Jo had suffered quite a few cuts across her body, none of them seemed as bad as she acted, much to Serena’s surprise. Many were shallow and had already stopped bleeding, while the ones that still bled barely did at all. Even the ones on her legs, longer in length, seemed mostly fine. And as Serena glanced over them, it seemed as though Jo’s head suffered more than the rest of her did. But from the groans Jo emitted as Serena began to heal the cuts, she would have guessed otherwise.

“Not – too – bad.” Serena signed with one hand. She pressed against Jo’s arm with the other, pale silver light illuminating the cuts as they healed. “More – worried – about – head.”

“Yeah, he punched me pretty good.” Jo winced and fidgeted as her skin began to sizzle. “Still can’t think straight.”

“I believed I apologized already.” Simon said. He cringed as Sosem ran his hands over his arm, though his skin didn’t sizzle as the wounds closed. “I truly hope I didn’t do anything permanent.”

“We can fix it if that’s the case.” Sosem mumbled.

“Huh. Beauty of magic.”

“Never – enough – credit.”

“No,” Sosem replied. “and I –

“Simon!” A voice, heard clearly over the crowd, called out to them.

Everyone glanced up as a coliseum attendant, dusty grey outfit dotted with sweat, strode up to the bench. He paused for a moment to catch his breath, then ran a hand through his shortly cropped hair.

“Excuse me sir, didn’t mean to interrupt. But there’s an urgent matter that Sir Gabriel needs to speak to you about. Right away, please.”

“Who?” Simon asked. He had already begun to pull his shirt back on the moment he heard his name, much to Sosem’s irritation.

“The head Cleric here, sir.”

“Oh, is he wearing those blue robes?” Simon stood up and grabbed his leather chest piece as the attendant nodded. “Ah. Right. Well,” he glanced around at Serena, Jo, and Sosem. “I’ll have to come back later to finish up with all this. Thank you for what you did though. And good fight Johana, we’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“Thanks, but no.” Jo grinned.

Simon laughed. He waved to them all as he left with the attendant, disappearing into the crowd around them.

“Gods –” Sosem threw up his hands. “I wasn’t even close to being done! Whatever that was, it better be important!”

“You that worked up about that?” Jo asked.

“When your sole job in this coliseum – along with life itself – is healing people, yes, you tend to get worked up.”

Jo raised her brows and blinked a couple of times. She nodded but didn’t say anything else.

After a moment, Sosem sighed.

“Sorry, didn’t mean for the snap. Here,” he scooted across the bench towards Jo. “let me see if I can help.”

With Sosem working on Jo as well, what would have taken Serena a decent chunk of time ended up taking no time at all. Sosem began to check over Jo’s head – she thankfully hadn’t suffered from a concussion as she’d guessed – allowing Serena to focus the rest of her energy on Jo’s arms and legs, mending the cuts along their lengths with ease. Jo continued to complain though, especially when Sosem began to mend the bruising along her face. Despite that, by the time they were both done, Jo looked as though she’d never been in a fight at all. She flexed her arms and rubbed her face, reenergized, while Serena plopped down on the bench next to her with a tired sigh. She rested her arms on her legs and hunched over, waiting for the ache in them to fade.

“Thanks, you two.” Jo said, rolling her arms out. She glanced at Sosem as he mirrored Serena’s pose, looking just as tired. “Must have been a lot too. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Serena signed without looking. “Goes away in a bit.”

“Do you always get that tired?”

“Only with healing, but I need to do it for a long time.” Serena straightened up. “So right now, yeah, it’s pretty sore.”

“Honestly, it really depends on the magic one uses.” Sosem said, remaining hunched over. “Healing magic can make the user more sore than other magic though. It’s harder to concentrate on closing a cut than, say, throwing a fireball.”

“And fireballs tend to be more fun.” Serena grinned.

“Yes, as the youth tell me.” With a grunt, Sosem heaved himself off the bench. “Well, I need some water. Think they’re giving some out somewhere around here. You two want any?”

Serena and Jo both nodded. Sosem returned the gesture, then began to wade his way through the crowd, which looked busier than usual. A commotion was occurring near the cutout in the arches, and Serena realized that another fight had ended, with both contestants coming out horrifically beaten up. Many began to flock towards the men as they dragged themselves in, crowding the hallway.

She shook her head and began to rub her arms. Serena was glad that she wasn’t on rotation at the moment; anymore healing, and she’d be unable to move her arms for a good hour. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

Beside her, Jo sat with her hands in her lap, leather chest piece on the bench next to her, watching the crowd. For a time, both of them stayed silent, as trying to talk would be useless over the shouting and urgency that filled the hallway. Well, for Jo anyways. She would have no problem hearing Serena, but she doubted she’d be able to hear Jo back.

As everything began to die down, however, the wounds of both fighters evidently taken care of, Jo looked over at Serena, brows furrowed.

“Where’s your choker?” Jo asked.

“Oh, it uh…” Serena paused. “It was bugging me. Took it off, probably need to readjust it.”

“Ah. That makes sense.

“Mmm.”

“So uh, how come Werond didn’t come to the coliseum with us?” Jo asked. “Not to play twenty questions with you.”

Serena shrugged, ignoring the small amount of tightness that filled her chest.

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“She had to work. Something important that she couldn’t get out of. It’s too bad, but it is what it is.”

“Yeah, that is too bad. Though I doubt she’d be able to hang out here with you.”

“Probably. But she did promise to come find me at some point. Say hi and all that.”

“Oh, on her lunch break or something?” Serena nodded. “That would be nice. When’s she going to come over?”

“I…” Serena paused, hands held up. “I don’t know actually. At some point, I guess. She said to stay in here, so she’d know where to find me.”

“Ah. Well, I’m sure she’ll come eventually.”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence once more. Jo leaned back on the bench, looking relaxed, while the tightness in Serena’s chest began to grow. How long had it been already? It must have been a few hours or so, but she wasn’t sure, having lost track of time many fights ago. Werond must have been extremely busy if she hadn’t stopped by yet, but that wasn’t surprising. After all, she did say that she’d been swamped at work lately. But if that was the case, when would she come down to see Serena? Would she be able to at all? Maybe Werond was…

Serena shook her head; she reached up and bit the skin around one of her knuckles. Werond would come, she knew she would. Thinking otherwise was ridiculous and would do nothing more than to make her nervous. But she couldn’t help but wonder how exactly she’d even get down here considering that she wasn’t a healer or doctor. Maybe –

“What a lovely, and bloody, fight that was!” The Masked Lord’s voice boomed throughout the coliseum. Serena jumped violently, and Jo laughed as she plugged her ears. “Now, onto our next match! And with just a few more fights to go, the first round of our tournament will soon come to a close!”

Serena frowned as the crowd outside roared. Had the first round really been that long? And why did the Masked Lord’s voice seem to get louder randomly?

“Our next fight is a special one!” They boomed. “A twist instead! Please welcome to the stands our next contestant, Cruck’aa – uh,” The voice stammered for a moment. “Just Cruck’aa!”

“I think they thought he had a last name.” Jo laughed, hopping off the bench. Serena followed suit. “Wonder who his opponent is going to be though.”

Serena shrugged, fingers still in her ears. It did seem odd that only Cruck’aa’s name had been announced.

Jo jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

“I’m going to see if I can head back to my side, they probably don’t want me here for that long.” She slapped Serena on the shoulder. “Thanks for the healing. See you later!”

“Sure!” Serena signed, pulling her fingers from her ears. Jo nodded, then turned and began to weave her way through the crowd, disappearing quickly.

Serena remained where she stood for a moment, glancing around for Sosem. Upon seeing no glimpse of him, she shrugged, and began to make her way towards the cutout. As much as she didn’t want to ditch the man, Serena desperately wanted to see who Cruck’aa would be up against. And knowing the Aarakocra, regardless of who it was, she knew it would turn out to be an exciting fight.

…

Cruck’aa took one step outside the hallway and immediately regretted ever signing up for the tournament in the first place.

He furrowed his brows, beak still twisted into a frown, as he glanced around at the ridiculous display that was the tournament. Far too many people had packed into the stands and the level at which they screamed could probably have been heard halfway across the city. It was a wonder Cruck’aa could even hear himself think. On top of that, the sand under his talons felt disgusting, with its gritty texture and that ever unpleasant feeling that dirt and sweat squished under him. He was certain that the sand hadn’t been changed since it had been dumped into place however long ago, and the continuous fights and spilled blood weren’t helping the matter. And of course, the sun was just barely past its zenith, beating down on Cruck’aa unbearably.

And what was the point of all this anyhow? Go out into a loud, dirty, and ridiculously hot arena to attempt to kill another person? Except you weren’t allowed to kill, you had to stop right before one of you died. Or at least, that’s what it all sounded like to him. The voices of those who worked here always grated in his ears and he tuned them out each time they spoke to him.

Cruck’aa glanced up into the blue sky. If he was being truthful with himself, he should just fly away right now. Leave and go back to Werond’s. Then he wouldn’t have to –

A trio of griffons, riders on each, flew over the coliseum, looking rather small at such a height.

Cruck’aa sighed, and continued out onto the sand, having half a mind to stick his talons into his ears.

It took a moment for him to reach the center, and it took even longer for an attendant to follow. Cruck’aa barely glanced at the woman as she halted next to him, the crowd beginning to die down as they so eagerly waited for the fight to start.

Idiots.

“So, you know what you’re doing?” The attendant asked, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Fighting someone and almost killing them?” Cruck’aa shot back, side eyeing her.

“Er…well, in a way. You’re not fighting someone. Your opponents aren’t people, remember?”

Cruck’aa blinked, then turned to face her. The attendant cleared her throat.

“Yeah…the contract you signed? You said it was okay to fight creatures in the arena. You’re the only one who said they’d do it.”

“Ah yes…that.” Cruck’aa crossed his arms. Somehow that detail had slipped from his mind. “Didn’t I sign up to fight a wyrm?”

“Yeah uh…” The attendant shrugged. “We lied about that.”

“What?!” Cruck’aa stepped towards the woman, who leaned back. “I signed up specifically to –”

“Sir, I’m well aware of what you signed up for, but things changed, and we couldn’t provide the wyrm for this tournament. It’ll be in the one after this. Regardless, we have other creatures for you to fight. And you can actually kill these, we don’t mind. In fact, please kill them, we don’t –”

“Fine fine!” Cruck’aa waved his hand. “What am I fighting then?”

“Hellhounds. We’ll teleport them –”

“Where in the Nine Hells did you get hellhounds?!”

“From one of those Nine Hells, I bet.” The attendant grinned.

“For –” Cruck’aa huffed but didn’t continue the thought. He stepped away and took his place back in the middle of the sands. He did not look at the attendant as she gave a thumbs up towards the stands, nor as she retreated towards the walls of the coliseum.

What he did notice, however, was that the moment the attendant stepped off the sands, heavy wooden boards were placed over the cutouts, blocking them almost completely. A section was left unbarred, offering a small viewing hole for anyone on the other side.

Cruck’aa rolled his eyes.

That irritating voice boomed over the coliseum once more, announcing the next fight. Cruck’aa tuned them out, choosing instead to glance about the sands, wondering what his plan of action would be.

Well, he already knew. He’d figured that out the moment the attendant had left the sands. It wouldn’t win him any favors, but he didn’t care for that. He’d much rather win with barely any effort than dance for these simpletons.

The moment the booming voice cut out, a small portion of the sands, towards the eastern wall, began to glow a bright purple. As the color brightened, a pattern began to bleed through the sand, sharpening into a star enclosed within a large circle, with smaller circles at each point. Cruck’aa had never seen a design like it before, though he knew that summoning circles tended to be unique.

He waited for a moment, the circle holding its brilliant color, a low humming in his ears, the crowd waiting in hushed anticipation. He blinked.

And the hellhounds appeared.

Five of them stood together, looking about, confused at the sudden change of surroundings. Each was massive, larger than any dog Cruck’aa had ever seen. Their bodies were made of a slick black hide, rippling with muscles as they gingerly stepped forward. A thick and coarse looking mane clung to the top of their heads and traveled down their back, their faces like a starved jackal, elongated and gaunt. Beady orange eyes flicked about the sands, until each set caught sight of Cruck’aa.

Almost simultaneously, the hounds began to stalk forward, their long claws leaving grooves in the sand. A bright orange light began to bleed from their open maws, the glow of their eyes intensifying, as they all began to growl, a horrible noise straight from Hell itself.

Cruck’aa’s feathers bristled, his body tense.

The voice boomed again, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

The hounds continued their pace, heads lowered, hackles raised.

Cruck’aa grimaced and steeled himself for what was to come.

…

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Werond mumbled.

Of all the things Cruck’aa could have done, and he chose to fly around.

Well, he wasn’t just flying around. The Aarakocra hovered just out of reach of the Hellhounds, though that deterred none of them, their maws snapping at his talons. None came remotely close, however, as he drifted about and directed lightning down at them.

Cruck’aa had summoned the force of nature in an instant. He had waved his talons about, conjuring angry looking storm clouds from thin air. Once they’d formed, he’d began to point at various spots below him, wherein arcs of jagged lightning would streak down, zapping at the hounds with a terrifying boom. To their credit, the Hellhounds were apt at dodging the assault, and leapt out of the way numerous times, sand turning to glass, before they were finally struck. A single zap wasn’t enough to kill one, however, and with how often they dodged, the fight had begun to drag on. Much to the crowd’s disappointment.

Werond grinned. She shouldn’t have felt any satisfaction towards it, but it was rather nice to hear the crowd boo at Cruck’aa. It suited the bird.

She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, losing interest in the fight below. It would take some time for it to conclude, and she had no desire to watch. She’d fall asleep if she did. Or she would have, had her mind not been a jumbled mess the moment she walked through that door.

“He’s a damned idiot,” Werond mumbled, waving a hand at Cruck’aa. “I’m a damned idiot, this place is full of damned idiots, gods!”

She shouldn’t have promised Serena to meet her. In hindsight, she knew it to be a foolish decision. But at the same time, Werond knew that she had to make that promise. How could she not? Not when Serena had sat there, blanket wrapped about her, hair a mess, looking at her with those eyes that spoke only from innocence, never from anything else, that pleaded with her to stay, to –

Werond leaned her head back against her chair, cheeks warm, and pounded a fist against her thigh, as though it could dispel those thoughts from her mind.

She knew that visiting Serena would expose too much of her, yet every fiber of her being wanted to do so anyways. After all, what was the harm? When Serena had asked her to stay, that request came from a genuine desire to be with her. Nothing more. It was innocent, endearing, and almost gave Werond a heart attack.

Serena wasn’t anything like her past relationships, a fact that Werond could barely wrap her mind around. In fact, the more she thought about it, the stranger it became, compared to everything else Werond had experienced. Serena wanted to be with her, to help her and enjoy their time together. There wasn’t a hint of selfish desire in that. There wasn’t anything in Serena’s words or actions that illustrated to Werond that Serena wanted her for her status and money – those things that weren’t her. Not like the others. Serena wasn’t pure, anyone who burned people to death could never truly be pure, but she was damn near close to it. She wanted Werond for who she was, not what she did. And Werond had to reciprocate that, she had to. Not only was it the right thing to do, but Werond knew it was the only way to truly show Serena just how much she meant to her.

But to do so, to open her arms and welcome Serena fully into her life, without any smoke and mirrors…it would be a death sentence, for both of them. Serena wasn’t the kind of woman to simply let issues be. She would insert herself into matters that she had no business being in and would refuse to leave until the issue had been resolved. And with just how dangerous the issues that plagued Werond were, she, in good consciousness, couldn’t allow that. She refused to bring Serena anywhere near those problems, especially when one of them was Jarlaxle.

Werond cursed as that Drow entered her mind. She lifted her head back up, banishing him from her thoughts, and glanced down to the sands below. Cruck’aa was still flying about, and only one Hellhound was dead, corpse a charred and smoking ruin. She put her head back down.

And yet trying to protect Serena would only make things worse. She had said it all too well, keeping her in the dark like that was simply unfair. Deciding what she could and couldn’t do wasn’t something that Werond should have done. As naïve as Serena seemed at times, she was a grown woman, capable of making her own choices. She was stubborn like that. If she wanted to help Werond and be there for her, despite the dangers, there really wasn’t anything that could stop her. And as much as Werond wished that weren’t the case, she couldn’t help but love Serena for it all the same.

She had to keep her promise then. Werond refused to even imagine the aftermath if she didn’t. But she’d already made that decision hours ago, hadn’t she? All she did now was torture herself by rolling the consequences around in her head, thinking until her temples throbbed. Or maybe that was from the crowds.

Werond let loose a guttural noise from deep within her throat and straightened up. She paid no attention to the fight.

Serena would ask a plethora of questions, that much was certain. Werond didn’t have to answer all of them. Most, yes, but so long as she steered away from her boss…perhaps things would be mostly alright. Or perhaps she could just be honest with Serena and explain to her the reservations Werond had. Explain that she just wasn’t comfortable putting Serena into that loop and offering her apologies. Serena would understand. Werond knew she would.

Or perhaps she could stop overthinking and just do it already.

Werond snatched the helmet that sat on the table beside her and placed it onto her head. She held it for a moment as the enchantments sealed it onto her thick purple robes, then stood up, moving towards the door.

Damian stood outside, leaned against the wooden wall, eyeing the fight with poorly disguised irritation. He glanced at Werond as she stepped out but didn’t stand up straight. The sun reflected off his golden plate armor, the symbol of Waterdeep glinting annoyingly at her.

Werond frowned. The youth these days always seemed to irritate her.

“Enjoying the fight?” Her voice came out as a rumble. She folded her arms into her wide sleeves as Damian finally straightened up.

“Honestly sir? No. That bird,” He gestured a golden gauntleted hand at the sands. “he’s ruining the spirit of the competition! Why –”

“I need an errand run.”

“Oh. Sure, what can I do?”

“You know where the healer’s section is under the coliseum?”

Damian’s blue eyes flicked towards the sky. He nodded after a moment.

“Good. Go down there and find a half-elf girl by the name of Serena Lash. She’s probably wearing a white collared tunic and a long skirt. Has a choker with a moon and arrows on it. Bring her up to me.”

“Anything I need to tell her?” He asked, nodding slowly.

“Just that I require her presence. Go when this fight is over.”

“Your will be done.” Damian slapped his fist against his chest, letting out a satisfying clang. At least he was eager when he was bored.

Werond nodded, then glanced out onto the sands. The last Hellhound was barely on its legs, limping about, as Cruck’aa readied another strike of lightning to finish it off. Somehow, the boos thrown at him had gotten louder.

“Better get ready.” Werond mumbled, her voice like low thunder.

Without another word, she strode towards the wooden balcony of her viewing box and leaned against the wooden railing, waiting for Cruck’aa to finish. As she did, she glanced down towards the tournament bracket that sat on a small square table next to her, etched in hurried hand on a piece of crumpled parchment. After a moment, Werond found the next fight.

She pressed a hand against her helmet, silencing her voice, before issuing a stream of swears black enough to make a lich blush.