Katalia sat cross-legged on a rug, focused on her breathing, in her bedroom, bathed in soft sunlight filtering through her sheer curtains. The sun’s rays reflected off the many plants scattered around – some hanging from the ceiling, others perched on wooden shelves alongside trinkets she’d collected from all around Aradahi.

The buzzing of the telephone suddenly shattered her mid-morning bliss.

“Really? Nobody else hears that?” she muttered to herself.

She tried to focus again, controlling her breathing and emptying her mind. But the phone buzzed again.

“Really?” she shouted. “Am I the only one capable of picking up a phone?”

“If it bothers you that much, why don’t you pick it up?” Manu called from the other room.

“Can you two keep it down? I’m trying to sleep here!” Kaelo, her other brother, yelled.

“Fine,” Katalia muttered, pulling herself up and heading downstairs.

In the kitchen, she grabbed the receiver. “Hello, this is –”

“Are you good, kid? You never rang me back.” Oh great it was her aunt.

“Been busy, you know, with training –”

“And how’s that going? The Belna,” her aunt said, mockingly.

Katalia wasn’t in the mood. Her aunt had not only beaten her unnecessarily but had done it in front of an audience. She felt the urge to slam the receiver back into the pink wall.

“Did you need something?” Katalia asked, keeping her voice flat.

“Oooh, the attitude. Something wrong, kid?”

Silence.

“Anyway, I called to confirm dinner plans with your dad next week. Let him know we’re still on.”

“Okay.”

“Goodbye.”

She hung up and dragged herself back to her room, turning the radio up in hopes it would help her relax. She picked up the book she had been working through, ‘The Mystery of Jaoze.’ It was an autobiography about a WKYE fighter who had allegedly grown up in the Poko Poko cursed marshes, between southern Yimani and northern Kinayi. Jaoze claimed he had been abandoned as a baby in the southern Yimani town of Piri and wandered into the cursed marshes, where he was taken in by a Risen.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Jaoze claimed that his Risen ‘father’ was a warrior who had ‘died’ in the Yimani Civil War. Except he hadn’t really died. The Red Nuns thought he had, but he had been in a coma. When they performed the blood ritual to raise his corpse into the mindless killing machine known as a Risen, he was trapped in limbo. After escaping, he chose to stay in the marshes, fighting nightmares that crept out of the cursed land.

Katalia never really bought this. She had read somewhere that Jaoze was actually Jin Cai, the son of Ru Cai, a renowned KY Fighter who had made his name in some of the more extreme Kai-Yo promotions. Jaoze had chosen his new identity because he knew it would sell better.

A knock on the door broke her focus. It was Kaelo, his golden eyes half-closed. “Can you turn that down? I’m trying to sleep.”

“It’s middady.”

“So?”

“Ugh…” She rolled her eyes.

Later, she found herself on the couch in the TV room, watching an old GKYA tape. The black-and-white footage showed her mother and aunt facing off in an Ailado match. Despite the fuzzy and grainy quality, it was still easy to tell them apart: her aunt, flashy in an outfit with patterns and ribbons, while her mother wore something more plain, probably green.

The ring was sunken, with poles jutting from the ground at varying heights. Rohalas filled the stands, watching as the sisters tiptoed across the poles like dancers, meeting in the middle to exchange blows before gliding apart.

Her mother kicked and punched with measured precision, while her aunt attacked with clawing strikes, her movements teetering between chaos and precision. As they separated again, her aunt fired off a quick burst of lightning. It knocked her mother off balance, forcing her to scramble for footing on the pole by using her Push to stretch her leg.

Katalia tried to mimic the stretch her mother did on-screen, extending her hand like rubber, but it went limp before she could pull it back. It was just like her normal Pushing. It was frustratingly underdeveloped.

On the screen, her mother regained her footing and let out a piercing screech that sent out shockwaves that pushed her aunt back. But before she could finish her off, her aunt coiled a vine around her, yanking her forward and hitting her with another bolt of lightning. Her mother fell, crashing onto the poles before sliding down to the arena floor.

Her aunt leapt into the air, spreading her wings, before flying in celebration.

“She was always a sore winner that one,” her father’s voice rumbled from behind. “And an even sorer loser.”

He sat next to her, tipping the couch slightly to one side.

“I really need to improve my Push,” Katalia said finally.

“I know,” her father nodded. “Kaelo mentioned something about it. He also told me what happened with your aunt. You good, kid?”

“Yeah. I’m not going to let that bother me.”

“Good.” He slapped his knees and stood. “I’m giving you a day off from the schedule. Use it to find a Push instructor. I’ll cover the cost.”

Katalia stood and hugged him, she felt overwhelmed. A part of her wanted to cry.

“Thanks for understanding,” she said.

“Push or no Push,” Malo Junior called from behind, “I still kick your ass every time.”