Chapter 2A

               A heart-wrenching anticipation charged the arena. Ariel was so focused on her brother now that she had forgotten the almost five thousand people watching her today. She didn’t need to be reminded of them. Not now. Not when she was so close to laying hold of the blademaster status.

            Any second now the buzzer would blast. Ariel could hear her heart pounding. She saw her brother’s firm grip on the bladeless hilt pointed downwards and away from his body. She gulped when she saw his stance—perfectly balanced. Feet apart. Would he stand a chance?

            Just wear him out. Ariel pushed in on the short depressions in both hilts and watched as the blades materialized—fragmented particles congealing together.

She let her lungs expand with fresh air. The hard metallic smell of the blades flooded her senses. You can do this, she thought.  Like a cannon the buzzer blared, and Ariel darted forward with the help of her Vox boots. She felt like she was running on clouds. Half-a-second was enough for her to reach her brother. Maybe he’d go down with a single hit, she wondered. Make things easier.

Far from it.

Demetrius blocked her strike with a single defensive blow.

            Ariel steadied herself from her shaky landing. Truth be told, she was only acting tough, pretending like she hadn’t heard the audience’s collective gasps. Her heart quickened again, fear rampant in her agitated mind. He was actually decent with those swords. But this would only prolong the inevitable.

Ariel had denounced her body’s warning signs, ignored those feelings in her gut that told her something horrible was on the horizon. Whatever. Fear wouldn’t overtake her now. She wouldn’t let it. Despite their silence to her request for a challenge, she was sure Edna and Toby were watching this fight somewhere. Yet something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

            This time, her brother came after her with both swords. He was fast. But how? Ariel blocked his hits—several of them she absorbed with her blades. Was he getting faster, or was this her imagination? A product of her fear?

Ariel kicked it up a notch, becoming less worried about Demetrius and more worried about herself. She struck harder and harder, finding his blades each time. It was impressive, that he was pulling this off. The vox suit alone would take weeks to interface with the brain. Being able to control its speed and strength had been painful at times for her, requiring not only physical toil, but mental exertion as well.

Between their deadlocked blades pushing futilely against each other, Ariel stared into his dark brown eyes, which glared with determination. He loomed over her, reminding her of his height. She felt smaller as he looked down at her. Her younger brother.

            “Never underestimate your opponent,” said Demetrius with an eerie grin.

            A new concern rippled throughout Ariel’s body. She actually struggled as he pushed his blades against hers. Her eyebrows jerked up, and a choked-back whimper escape from her mouth. It wasn’t until she heard another sound escape with her breath that she separated herself from him.

            Her breath had picked up. Her senses had sharpened. Adrenaline washed through her arms and legs. Wearing him out was now completely out of the picture. The way it looked, if she continued with this strategy, she’d be exhausted before him. She was too afraid to glance at the faces of the silent crowd in the expansive arena. Lights dimmed so low all she could see where devices capturing the moment. She knew what they were thinking: what in the world was happening here?

            “Why are you doing this?” asked Ariel, attempting to hide the pain in her voice.

            “I’m trying to save you from yourself,” said Demetrius, beckoning to her with a taunting gesture.

             This kindled her anger. He was shaking up her world. Did he have any idea? Ariel growled. She now wanted to hurt him. She wanted to make him pay for all of this. She examined her left arm. It was significantly weaker. A singular ache had manifested itself, and she shook out that limb.

It was his smug smile, his effortless stance: not a wobbling penguin, a symptom of mind-suit discordance, an expectation for all amateurs. But no, not Demetrius, apparently. The audience’s collective gasp and subsequent silence chilled her heart.

“I’m not losing this,” she said as her voice faltered, but her confidence was quickly dwindling. Never had she gripped those sword hilts so hard in her life. Rage clamping her jaw shut, Ariel pushed against the floor, propelled by the force of vox boots at her feet, and flew at Demetrius.

            Barreling towards him, she needed to be careful. She put every ounce of strength she could muster into her swords, and yet he deflected her with two upward parries. She had to slow herself down with her blades, sending sparks flying as she scraped the stage for a harsh landing.

            “This can’t be happening,” she muttered, panting. Some in the crowd had stood up in shock. Ariel scrunched her nose in pain. Such force. She’d never felt that from another competitor other than a blademaster. She blinked away the tears trying to escape her eyes. Her chest hurt with each breath. He was undoing everything. She hadn’t been focused and she knew it. He was her brother for goodness sakes.