The moment Hawthorne and Gideon stepped into the Solaris Stadium, it hit Hawthorne that the tourney was going to be unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

This stadium was much smaller than the one they'd just exited (still huge compared to their guild), but no less grand, and no less accommodating to the audience; the high seating allowed them to spectate without fear of catching any stray magic, and a nearly transparent magical barrier had been erected, as well, to further ensure the safety of the crowd. In the center of the space rose what could only be described as a derelict, four story castle, crumbling walls and jagged holes revealing an equally precarious interior. One tower remained relatively intact in the far right corner, the rest broken, hollowed-out shells exposed to the elements. The entire bottom floor was open, and Hawthorne saw a staircase winding upwards, though he couldn't tell if it actually reached the next floor.

A miniature forest had been erected around the castle, trees and shrubbery concealing gods knew what. A channel had been dug into the ground and filled with water, spanning the full length of the arena. From here Hawthorne couldn't see straight through to the other end, and it unnerved him more than an open space would have.

There were plenty of places to hide in a place like this.

Banners bearing the royal crest were hung at regular intervals around the circular arena, though even as Hawthorne watched they were transforming, the green of the silk sliding away like water to reveal a rainbow of colors — eight in all, one color for each team, two banners per color. The crest unraveled and reformed into — guild marks, it looked like.

Starry Rose's banners were pastel pink with their crest done in gold; Polar Fox's — a stylized fox with its tail curled around its feet — were icy white with silver accents. Hawthorne's gaze flicked from one banner to another, matching teams to their marks. The siblings he'd noted before had approached the forest green banners bearing the mark of the Adventurer's Coalition. Before Hawthorne could grab Gideon and head over to their own banners, the same attendant from before approached them, this time carrying a wooden box.

"Starry Rose, correct?" he asked, smiling amiably when they nodded in confirmation. He opened the box, revealing two steel bracers, plain apart from the three circular stones that lined the length of the metal. "You'll have to wear these for the duration of the game. The stones will light up when you're struck by an opponent, either physically or through magical means. If all three are lit, you'll have to stop playing, though you'll still earn points for your team based on how well you performed up to that point. Any questions?"

Gideon reached for his bracer, turning it over in his hands for a moment before he slid it onto his right arm — the armor seemed to shimmer as it shrunk to fit Gideon's slender forearm, resting snugly against his sleeve. Iridanium metal, mined from the western region of the kingdom; it conducted magic well and was made malleable by it. Gideon's violin had traces of it so his magic could flow through the instrument unimpeded.

"What constitutes a hit?" Gideon asked as Hawthorne outfitted himself with the additional bracer, sliding it onto his left arm and grinning as it adapted to the size and shape of him. "Or, in other words, how hard do we have to be hit for the stone to register it? And does it count if it's blocked by, say, a shield?"

Hawthorne raised his own shield for emphasis, taking the cue Gideon had clearly laid out for him.

The attendant shook his head. "No, blocked attacks won't count. You're free to use your shield as much as you like, for offense or defense. And as for the severity of the hit..." He trailed off, looking as though he were trying to recall something from the script he was no doubt going off. "A tap won't set off the stone. They're calibrated for something more like a punch?"

"And the magical equivalent of that is...?"

The attendant smirked. "I really don't think you'll have to worry about anyone holding back, sir. That said, friendly fire is a concern here — the bracers react to any and all magic, even your own, if an attack ricochets." He looked between them, closing the box with a definitive snap. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Hawthorne shared a look with Gideon, then said, "No, that covers it. Thank you."

"My pleasure. Now—" A bell chimed from somewhere above them, and the attendant straightened, tucking the box under his arm as he turned to leave. "Sixty seconds until the game begins. Best of luck to you all!"

They watched him disappear through the exit, a glittering barrier forming the moment he stepped past the threshold, as all around them competitors readied themselves for the oncoming battle.

Hawthorne breathed in deeply, steeling himself, and beside him Gideon looked around the arena, his narrow-eyed gaze sharp and assessing.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"They didn't have us move to our banner," he pointed out.

"No?" Hawthorne couldn't see anyone beside the siblings standing under their own banners; most of them were scattered around this side of the castle, weapons out, magic glittering at their fingertips. They weren't even within easy reach of the forest. He'd thought the starting point would be the banners (and evidently so had Gideon), but perhaps it didn't matter. Having them all clustered together didn't seem wise, given it would be an all-out brawl from the beginning, though Hawthorne couldn't say whether the decision was based on entertainment value or something else. "Why, is something bugging you?"

Gideon was incredibly perceptive, and if he was worried about this, then Hawthorne had no reason to doubt him.

"It's an odd choice. Everyone has the advantage of being able to decide on targets ahead of time, rather than having to make do with whoever is closest to your banner. I'd thought they'd make this more challenging. And what's the point of this outrageous castle structure when we're all starting outside of it?"

That was... a valid point, one Hawthorne hadn't considered. The castle had taken time to build, clearly; was it merely an elaborate decoration to throw them off at the start of the game? The air was thick with magic, too, and had been since they'd stepped into the arena. More than could be explained away by the barriers, or the competitors testing their reserves. There was more to the castle than met the eye, Hawthorne would bet on it.

He frowned, reaching out to catch Gideon's arm. "Do you think—"

Gideon vanished.

Or Hawthorne had been the one to vanish, as from one blink to the next Hawthorne found himself alone surrounded by weathered stone walls, the sound of a bell chiming ringing in his ears as he fought to regain his balance. He shifted to his weight to steady himself, grateful for the familiar weight of his shield on his arm.

Teleportation, he thought, eyes darting around, trying to determine where he'd ended up and if anyone was close by. It was a good trick — scatter the competitors throughout the course, without the ally they'd walked into the game with, forcing them to navigate an unfamiliar arena while fielding possible attacks from any and every direction. A good trick, and a really annoying one. He and Gideon's strength as a pair would only matter if they could find one another.

Right. No use sitting around and waiting for someone to ambush me. I'll find Gideon and we'll tackle this together.

He was in the intact tower, he thought, judging by the circular room he'd appeared in, devoid of anything beyond a trap door at his feet that was currently closed. He'd have no way of knowing if anything was waiting for him below. But the game had begun, and Hawthorne needed to get moving.

The door was unlocked, at least, and Hawthorne pulled it open, peering down at the spiraling set of stairs. There was a crack in the wall somewhere, as the stairwell was well lit, the shadows chased into the corners. He raised his shield as he started down the stairs, walking as softly and swiftly as he could, his footsteps still echoing awkwardly in the tight space. He hopped over a gap in the stairs, and the next bend in the tower revealed a wooden door. Hawthorne hesitated a moment before testing the lock — open again. He supposed they did want people interacting eventually; locking doors would be a little counterintuitive. Pushing open the door, he cautiously entered what looked to be a hallway, which contained another set of doors on either side of him, as well as a wide hole in the floor that, upon closer inspection, dropped down at least two floors.

A glance around told him he was alone, still; or, at least, he didn't perceive anyone, but who knew what kind of magic he'd be dealing with? He didn't pause for long, though, continuing forward, skirting around the hole with the intention of reaching the door to his left. The moment his hand closed around the doorknob, though, he froze, the hair lining the back of his neck standing on end.

"Found you!"

One of the Chaos Dogs shifters launched herself up onto Hawthorne's floor through the hole, her winged arms propelling her up from the lower level and blasting Hawthorne with a gust of wind as she settled on her feet, talons click-clacking against the stone. He braced against the onslaught, his shield taking the worst of the razor-sharp winds, backing up almost into the door as the woman stalked forward.

"You're not one of the Knights," she mused, the beak that served as a mouth for her snapping with audible clacks around every other word. "Not nearly as clunky as them, and you've only got the shield. What, is your partner the attacker?" Hawthorne lowered the shield enough to catch a glimpse of the feral gleam in her dark eyes. "How unlucky for you, kid!"

She leapt for him, slashing out with her talons, and Hawthorne ducked into a roll, coming up a few feet away from her. She spun to face him, wings extended, but he'd already grabbed for his shield and thrown it, calculating angles on the fly so that it bounced off wall, then the floor, and smacked into the shifter's back, sending her to her knees with a squawk of surprise.

Hawthorne watched as the bracer she wore lit up, one of the three stones glowing red, and smiled as she lifted her head to glare at him. He raised an arm, calling the magic of his personal bracer, and the shield sailed over the shifter's head, forcing her to duck, so that it settled neatly on his arm again.

"I'm good with both, actually," he said, then ran past her, catching a hand on the edge of the hole and swinging himself down onto the lower floor.

Her shriek of outrage followed him as he landed in a careful roll, his momentum carrying him onto the third floor rather than dropping straight to the second. He came to his feet with his shield already raised. But this floor was much the same as the last one, and he didn't want to stick around for the shifter to pay him back for the hit. He started for the far end of the hallway, spying another staircase. A shrill sound in the distance distracted him, though, and he whipped around — an entire section of the wall behind him was missing, giving a clear view of the forest below, and he was startled to see that a heavy mist had formed this high up. The water channel was the obvious source, which meant someone had water magic of some kind — and maybe someone else had fire, if this wasn't intentional.

But that wasn't what worried him. He knew that sound.

Gideon