The clattering of hooves and the sporadically creaking of wheels bleed into my subconscious, take on new forms. Around us houses roll by in a slow haze, children playing and adult bartering, crowds forming abound the carriage before we lose them again in rundown alleys: Here the shining façade of the city has long since cracked. My head is lowered, next to me, Niilan, mind preoccupied, is fiddling with his sleeve cuffs. Gradually the cobblestones change, their size, their color, their erosion, again and again, until finally the giant tower looms before us. Stepping out the bright sun is almost blinding. Enya emerges form the back of the carriage, watching the crowd and Niilan with alert eyes. We exchange glances, his one of forced composure, mine to signal good luck, then he tuns and walks towards the fighter entrance. Niilan and I head up instead, curved stairs after curved stairs we climb the inside of the tower, until the box seats come into view.

They’re filled with laughter, lighthearted chatter, ordering around of servants and, beneath it all, envious glances and sizing up one another, a social- and political competition more than anticipation for an exciting show filling the ranks of the high and mighty. Niilan joins them, heads turn, greeting are exchanged before the polite conversation resumes. I stop behind his seat. Eventually cheers begin to erupt, the moderator screams something no one can understand, then the silver gates on both sides open. These seats have some of the best visibility in the tower, and yet I have to squint and adjust parts of my eyes for my vision to sharpen enough to make out all details on the ground. Enya and his opponent, a woman of maybe 30, hazel hair, are circling each other, slowly drawing nearer. Enya has grabbed a long sword form the weapon stand. Then, with the flick of her head, Enya’s opponent transforms, dark mane and fur the color of sand to replacing her skin. The lion pounces, claws outstretched. He ducks, dragging the metal of his sword along her flank. Bright red blood spills on the ground, she yowls, swiping thru the air before jumping back. Her form morphs into that of the human woman once more. In that time Enya has fallen back and swiped a dagger off the weapon stand before turning, sprinting at her full force. This time she jumps, barely avoiding the blows of his sword. Further and further she’s driven back until her feet trip. She catches herself on all fours before transforming into a giant hulking bear. A roar echoes the arena, then, with a clinking Enya’s sword falls to the ground as the bear snaps at his arm. Again, the bear charges. Enya, in one quick motion, throws the dagger he just picked up. Mid charge the beast swerves to the left to avoid the knife hitting her skull. Sand is kicked into the air as she comes to a screeching halt, turning around to see Enya gone, a giant eagle, long black feathers, spreading his wings to sore up even further into the sky. His transformation had been slow, the way they always are, but it doesn’t matter, his opponent had been distracted by the dagger. Spreading his wings, Enya takes off into the sky. Along him, the rows and rows of stacked seats as the stadium begin to fill up with howls and cheers. After him, just seconds later, another eagle sores up as well, parts of her plumage drenched in red. The two birds circle each other, ascending further up und up, before, in a heartbeat, the black eagle attacks, claws outstretched. Instantly Enya’s opponent reacts, adjusting her wings to redirect her path of flight. The claws pass over her head. The midday sun is reflecting in the silver bars that separates fighters form humans, as the crowds’ cheers become louder and louder, demanding blood. Both draw back, before clashing once more. But this time, neither one avoids it, screeching fills the air as both of their claws get covered in each other’s blood before both are thrown back from the impact, toward the cage walls, both desperately trying and failing to redirect their path. The white eagle manages to transform halfway back into a bear, desperately trying to protect her fragile bird bones. Then she hits the sliver, a mixture between an eagle’s screech and a bear’s growl fills up the arena as the metal freezes her body mid transformation, sending the chimera plummeting to the ground. For a second the human faces behind the bars are drenched in cold white light. Enya is to slow to even begin the transformation, the black eagle is thrown against the silver, feathers falling, his screeching merging with the one of his opponent, you could hear his wing fracture. Then he plummets as well, wings desperately flapping, one of them uselessly dancing behind him in the wind. The flight pattern is more of a downwards cork spiral. Enya lands hard, the black eagle instantly reverting to a human form. A half-transformed eagle crashes next to him with the sickening sound of a dozens bones snapping. The crowd has gone silent. Enya, his lower arm dangling from left to right in an unnatural angle, is struggling to get up. Slowly, spilling drops of blood as he lumbers forward, he picks up the abandoned dagger on the floor. He leans over the twitching heap of blood, feathers, fur, and bones, turns it over, and stabs it in the heart. The twitching stops. Without missing a breath the arena erupts into deafening, roaring cheers. Other masters jump up to congratulate Niilan, smiling and placing their hands on his shoulder. He looks down at Enya holding his arm instead, discouraged expression in his face: “This is going to take at least a month to fix”.

On the way back Niilan is silent, an air of unsaid words and frustration, always quick to turn into anger filling the inside like a suffocating cloud. Gently the carriage sways from side to side. As if even the universe itself is trying to appease him. In the manor I split off, the dark narrow corridors seeming like a refuge more than usual. I walk down the stairs.

“Where’s Enya?”

“He won right?”

“Was it a cool fight?”, the kinds ask. They have have jumped up as soon as the door opened.

Aary’s eyes are glistening with excitement: “I would have loved to see it myself. I bet he was really cool” she brabbles on, her expression so unlike her usual self. Kara is next to her, pacing. The boy seems like he’s standing on hot coals.

“He won but has a broken arm. He’s taken care of upstairs, maybe go give him a visit”, I say.

The glistening in Aary’s eyes is exchanged with worry and guilt.

“It was a clean fracture; it should be well in a month or two. He’s fine, he’ll tell you so himself. Go check, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a bit of company”. I smile, hoping to comfort, and shuffle them upstairs.

An hour later, Enya is finally patched up. He lumbers down, one careful step after the other, two kids trailing behind him like shadows.

I look him up and down: “That was a spectacular fight. I’ve seldom heard a crowd cheer that loud.”

“Oh, fuck off”, he snaps back, attempting to kick at me before his grin distorts into a grimace. His arm has shifted in the rough bandage and cast. Aary winces. Kara reaches for her hand.

“Anyways”, Enya says thru barred teeth: “I remembered something I wanted to tell Aary. Kara, Njra, you too. Let’s get some privacy.”

As we walk I catch up to him: “Are you sure you want to discuss this now?” Enaya nods.

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He knocks, opens the door. Inside are two others, looking up in surprise: “Sorry, is it okay if we borrow the room for a bit?”, Enya asks.

“Yeah, no problem. How was the fight?”

He looks down at his arm.

“Ah shit… Well, I guess at least you don’t have to fight for a while now.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ve seen worse, I’m sure it’ll heal nicely.”

“If you say so”

Walking out, their smiles freeze as they squeeze past Kara and me. Enya turns his head towards the kids: “….so, how was your day?”

“Well, we just waited mostly, a bit of training in the beginning”, Kara answers, “we…” “I’m sorry, I thought it was so cool. The fighting. I wanted to see an arena fight since I was small… I forgot….Will your arm be alright?” Aarys interrupts. Her voice has the same soft and quiet tone, but now, in this room that has seen so much pain, it sounds not sweet but ghostly, hollow. “Of course, look”, Enya says: “the fracture is on the underarm, clean thru, no joints nothing. It’ll heal up in no time. And other than that, it’s just a bit of bruises und spraining. No need to worry” She nods. “No, the thing that I wanted to tell you is about your transformations.”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be. You know, I thought of something that might help a bit. Can you tell me the reason why the transformations don’t work?”

“It’s… too painful”, she says, “it feels like my body is torn apart”

“I had the same problem. I was in the silver mines when I was younger. Down there the kids don’t have marks. Well at least not the magical ones, too expensive when you just have to replace them, us, every few years. We wore those heavy silver collars. None of us ever learned to transform. And then I got here and suddenly was expected to do so with ease. But it’s hard, you know, when you aren’t used to it, when you’ve never done it before”

“You too?”, Aary asks.

“Yes. But I learned it. Just the way you will as well. You know, the pain while transforming, we all have that”

Aary turns to Kara: “It’s painful for you?! It looks so easy though”

“It hurts yes. But it’s not difficult. It’s only the transformation that’s painful, the faster you do it the quicker it’ll be gone too. And it kinda feels natural to do you know”

Aary looks over to me: “for you as well?”

“Yes. But Kara’s right, you can’t compare it. I’m sure transformation was horrible to learn. But for us it’s like a human learning how to walk. By the time the first memories form they have already forgotten the pain of falling over”.

“But” Enya adds, “you don’t have to do it like them. Even now, I can’t transform very fast, or often. But that’s fine. You just have to win; your fighting style is yours alone to decide. Your good with knifes, really good, so you can fight with those. Transformation could be nothing more than a backup plan. You only have to bare it once or twice. Can you do that?”

She nods.

“And the same goes for you too”, I look towards Kara, “You don’t have to fight with martial weapons as your tactic, you just have to be able to use it.”

“Yeeeessss I knowwww”, he rolls his eyes. Aary loosens up a bit, smiles.

The rest of the day is spent training, before in due time, night comes and Kara and Aary go back to the sleeping chamber, quietly bickering as they pass by the others. One by one the hall empties until, like so many nights before, the only one left are Enya and me.

“How do you feel?”, I finally ask, in between picking up another handful of knifes.

“Good”

I throw a knife: “No you don’t.”

“I’ll be fine”

“Can I take a look”, I gesture to his arm.

He lifts it up just a bit.

“The fight was grizzly to look at. What are you going do if it doesn’t heal properly?”

“Be killed most likely”

“If you want to, you can talk to me. About the mines too. You’re not alone.”

“Look who’s talking”

“I just offered. No need to get spiteful”

He grins. Picks up one of my knifes, throw it with his left hand. With a sad thud it lands on the ground several meters next to the target: “You know, if today had been the end, I wouldn’t have minded”

“If you don’t mind, then what’s the reason you keep on fighting?”

“Why do you?”

“I fight to survive. For every last second of it”

“What for?”

“I promised”

“To whom?”

“My mother. You didn’t answer my question”

“I’m just here. I’ll take care of the others for a bit longer. And then I’ll die and someone else will have to take over. That’s just how it works”

“Sounds like a heavy burden”

“You’re the same. I’ve seen the way you look at Kara. You’d protect that boy with your life”

“Not with my life”

“We’ll see. And why him anyways? I’ve never seen you bonding with any of your students before”

“I don’t like being a mentor. We both know that”

“But he’s different isn’t he. Because he’s a wildling?”

“No. His eyes are different. He is… they’re not broken”

“That’s the thing you’re protecting, isn’t it? He reminds you of yourself”

“No. I never had eyes like that”

“No you haven’t.” Silence. “It’s late. I’m going back”

He trots over, opens the door, pauses: “You’re not coming?”

“I’m fine. I will stay a bit longer”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“I do not like sleeping”

“Well suit yourself” smiles “I’ll go give my arm some healing time”

“Hey”, I say as he’s already halfway out, “I’ll take over training for both of them tomorrow. So rest”