The next week passes in the fog of repetition and mundanity. I train for my upcoming fight. Kara ignores Enya. I am glad each time it gives me a reason to do the same. The whispers of the others grow louder, now that the protective blanked of Enya’s and Aary’s presence is gone. Kara is still bothered by it, I don’t care.

–

It’s night. In two days I’ll stand in the arena. The training chambre is dark, and even with enhanced eyes I can only make out traces of the room’s equipment. An edge of a training doll here, a silhouette before the wall there. It hones the senses. Maybe that’s why I hear the footsteps so early. I recognize them, have heard them enough to know who’s coming. I’m out of breath, my body filled with the remnants of pain relentless transformation has burned into me. My dry panting and his booming footsteps fill the air. Enya pushes the door open.

“I was looking for you. Can we talk?”, he says.

“I already gave you my answer”

“Can I light the torches?”

“This place isn’t mine. Do as you please.”

He feels his way along the wall, almost stumbling twice before reaching the torches. He strikes the two pieces of metal together; sparks fly before the fire begins to flicker, pushing back the shadow blanket I have wrapped myself in.

“Finally. A lot more homely now, isn’t it?”

I turn my head, I adjust my eyes back, revel in the clearly of momentary pain as my eyes warp. Then I begin gather the weapons strewn over the floor.

“Look. Please let’s just talk this out. If there’s a problem in the way I behave, tell me. I’ll work on it. but I can’t if you just ignore me”, he says.

“Who said there was one?”

“Kara’s been avoiding me like the plague, not that I don’t know why. But you’re giving me the cold shoulder too… I don’t understand. I thought we had a good conversation on the wall. One that’ll bring us closer. Instead, you draw away.”

“We agreed to mentor Kara and Aary together. She’s dead now. The talk on that wall was nice, but the arrangement we had is done.”

“You’re my friend! I’m not gonna let it just fizzle out”

I turn to walk away. But before I can, his hand shoots out, grabs my shoulder, forces me around: “Can you just talk to me, please?!”

His hand feels like it's searing into my flesh. A burning sensation that non the less makes my body run cold, inflicted force it’s all too familiar with. Kill him. Break him. I do neither. Instead, I freeze.

There’s a woman standing in the floor, perfectly still, eyes wide and non-responsive. The man across from her is opening and closing his mouth. I feel dizzy. He’s shaking her, seems to be agitated. The woman tenses and presses her eyes shut. He drops her, takes two steps back.

It takes a while for the woman to open her eyes. For me to open them with her.

Enya stands at the other side of the room, staring at me with terror, and something else I can only liken to pity.

“Leave”, I say. It bothers me how weak it sounds.

“What just happened, is that…?”

“You are smart. You know what happened.”

“You… I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was that bad… If there’s anything I can do...?”

“Yes. Leave.”

“So that you can go on ignoring me? I’m your friend. You’re obviously not okay, we can…”

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“You said I should thank the guy that’s raping me. I let it go. You promised to look after the boy when I die. And for that you will have your favor. I promised to talk to Kara on your behalf. I did. And still, instead of being grateful you trail after me like a hurt puppy demanding to be pet. Tell me, what makes you think you have the right to demand my friendship?”

“I...”, he looks down, “It doesn’t. I’m sorry. I just want you to know that I think of you as my friend. And if you’d ever want to, I’d like to become yours as well.”

I don’t answer.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Just nods and leaves, finally leaving me in silence.

–

White hot sand and the smell of blood surround me. Thousands of people are yelling and demanding more. Strength and anticipation is pulsing thru every strand of my body, edging me on. I’ve missed it. I take everything in, my opponent, the weapon placements, Niilans seat. Today must be his meeting. Let’s give them a show.

My opponent is hulking, dark brown hair and eyes staring at me with hunger. I adjust, smaller frame and stronger legs, giving me the speed and mobility I’ll be thankful for. He charges, I dart to the left, grabbing two daggers. My fingers clutch around the hilts just before his gigantean form crashes thru the weapon stand, sending weapon and shields flying. I roll to duck as a warhammer lands where I’ve been a few seconds ago. I throw the knife; use the cover it gives me to get up and charge. Mid run I drop the second dagger. His eyes snap towards it. I transform into a jaguar, use its hind legs to boost my jump: he has no time to doge. And not the body for it either. Instead, he stands firm, catching me and holding me off with raw strength. I fume, snap at his face, roar and hiss.The black of my fur stands in stark contrast to the sand and my opponent’s body. Visible even from the heights rows. The man’s leg swings for a kick. I shrink and his foot connects with nothing but air. He turns around, rage and confusion on his face, not noticing the small fly that has landed on his shoulder. I jump, rip him into the air with me as giant wings sprout from my back and talons tear into his flesh. He screams. First in pain and then in anger before it warps as his body begins to expand. No. I let go. He plummets, barely managing to finish before hitting the ground. I don’t give him the time to recover, crash down on top of him, weight enhanced. Hooves dig into his back. He swipes for me feet, but I have already lifted myself up into the air again.

He scrambles away, clutching his ribs, fumbling to pick up the hammer on the floor. Then I’m on top of him, pushing him further back until his pinned against the wall. For the first time I see fear in his eyes. The crowed cheers. The man swings his fist, I dodge the blow and dig my knee into his stomach. When he gasps, there’s blood in his mouth. I take a step back, fly into the air, wait to see if he follows. He doesn’t, just topples over and tries to breath. The cowed begins to hurl insults. I soar up into the sky, pass by the faces fast enough that they blur until I’ve reached the boxed seats. Niilan’s talking to someone who's transfixed on the scene, on me. Barely visible on his lab Niilan holds up three fingers. Fine. I dive down, stop just shy above my opponent. The crowed is seething with anger demanding him to get up. He struggles onto one leg, then both, looks up and begins to transform.

He takes off, his flight irregular and lopsided. I draw him higher and higher. He’s trying to catch up, I give I’m the curiosity. His eyes snap towards my wing, flying towards me, talons outstretched, trying to rip it off. I shrink it, use the tilt this puts me in to drop to his unprotected weak point. My talons connect with his chest, pricing, drawing blood. He tries to catch them, but they’re already gone. I draw back and he follows close behind, two birds chasing each other, tight turns after tight turns. Beneath scarlet drops fall and sicker into the sand. With each beat of his wings, they grow slower, multiple times they almost give out before he manages to catch himself. In the end is him who lands first, panting and shaking, hands trying to stop the bleeding. I follow, reverting to human form. They like that. I look around for the dagger I dropped in the beginning, position myself so it's behind me. Then I take in a defensive positron and wait. My opponent staggers back instead, eyes daring around the crowd, the panic carved into his features. High up in the box seats a man has sprung to his feet, screaming something that’s drowned out. He’s pointing, my opponent is shaking his head franticly. I can’t hear what the man says next, but the effects are instant. Blinding light tinges the colosseum in shades of crimson. My opponents body grows stiff, his eyes widen. He turns, movements mechanic and jerking. I feign to stagger back. The light fades, my opponent charges with the desperation of a cornered animal. He swipes, I dodge. As I roll over, I clasp the blade now in my reach. I’m panting too, purposely louder and more obvious to justify not getting up. He buys it. So does the crowed. He runs towards me, teeth fletched, eyes ready to kill. Instead, I jump up, burry the knife deep within one. It pops, liquid and blood spilling out of the hole in his face, wetting his fur. He screams, roars, a sound that is both and neither. It’s unbearably loud. I stager on top of him, drive it deeper into his skull: Until his noise stops than that of the cowed begins. I get up, hold the dagger into the air. One. Two. Three. Then I’m allowed to drop it. I kneel, still breathing heavily, place three transformed claws onto his face, run them gently down the bodies face and pray our ancestors may take him back. It’s the only way I know how to: crocked and wrong. Two months.

Up the stairs and thru the dimly lit seating area Niilan is waiting. With him is the man from before, olive skin and dark curls that closer resemble a statue than those of a real person. Over his heart, holding together pristine robes, clasps a silver disk brooch. His hands wander up, reflexively fixes it as he nods along with Niilan’s empty words: “Please give it a thought. This proposal would give the city, no the republic, the stability and prosperity is so richly deserves.”

“No need beat about the bush”, he makes direct eye contact, “Niilan, son of Kieran. We both know what you meant to imply. Non the less: I am impressed by your fervor. I shall pass your proposal on to the council.”

“That is all I can ask for”, Niilan bows his head, “you have my deepest thank”.