The air shifted the moment Abigail stepped forward charged with something too sharp, too tense, too unnatural.
Lena stood across from her, the smirk etched into her lips already dripping with condescension.
"This won't take long," she purred, rolling her shoulders back, stretching like she was preparing to tear Abigail apart. "You should've stayed hidden in his chambers. Would've been easier for both of us."
The crowd reacted instantly a mixture of laughter, murmurs, shifting eyes that settled on Abigail like wolves watching a wounded prey stumble into their territory.
Abigail ignored them.
But she couldn't ignore Lena's words, the way they sunk too deep, twisted something bitter beneath her ribs.
She clenched her fists. Steady. Focused.
Then, the fight began.
Lena struck first fast, ruthless, deliberate. Abigail barely dodged, her boots scraping against the stone as she twisted just enough to avoid a direct hit.
Then a whisper.
Low. Crawling.
Break her.
Abigail froze.
The moment of hesitation cost her. Lena's blade skimmed her side, tearing into her jacket, a thin streak of heat cutting against her skin.
Abigail jerked back, ignoring the sting.
She focused but something was wrong.
The shadows felt heavier, curling at the edges of her vision, stretching into the cracks between her thoughts.*
Lena chuckled, circling her like a predator. "What's the matter? Not used to a real fight?"
Abigail tightened her grip but the voices grew louder.
Strike.
Take her throat.
She's nothing.
End it.
She felt her pulse shift sharp, erratic, raw.
Lena lunged again, and Abigail reacted too quickly, too recklessly.
Their blades clashed, metal ringing through the arena but Abigail wasn't fighting like herself anymore.
She wasn't dodging. She wasn't calculating.
She was reacting to the voices.
She saw red Lena's smirk, Lena's taunts, the way her eyes gleamed with satisfaction like she knew Abigail was losing control.
And then pain.
It was sudden, brutal, unrelenting.
Lena's blade slammed into Abigail's shoulder, knocking her off balance, sending her staggering to the ground.
The voices snapped, twisting, screaming.
Weak.
Pathetic.
Should've killed her.
Abigail gasped, clutching her shoulder, blood warm between her fingers.
Lena stood over her, breathing steady. Unbothered. Victorious.
"Looks like you aren't ready for Nocturna after all," she murmured, voice casual, cruel, perfectly controlled.
Abigail barely heard her.
Because the shadows were still there.
And the voices weren't done speaking.
Lena stepped closer, gaze flicking downward as if she were observing something beneath her.
"You were entertaining for a moment," she mused, tapping her blade against her palm. "But now? You're nothing."
The voices latched onto the words, twisting them, hammering them deeper.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Abigail's pulse pounded, breath quickening, chest tightening as the crowd watched, judged, waited.
The world tilted, shadows twisted, and the voices rose, screaming, drowning out everything else.
Her vision narrowed Lena's smug face was the only thing left.
She staggered forward, hands clutching her temples, gasping for air, but the voices didn't stop.
Lena smiled, stepping back, watching the unraveling with quiet satisfaction.
Then movement.
Fast. Urgent.
Dimitri cut through the crowd, reaching her just as she collapsed.
"Abigail!"
His voice was sharp, commanding, but it barely registered.
Her knees buckled.
Her vision faded.
And then—
Darkness.