She eyed me thoughtfully. “Appealing. Slightly more appealing.”

“Good. Then let’s get going,” I snapped, losing patience with her. “Everyone was already there. Except you and Quinn. We’re going to be the last.”

I started striding back through the jungle, praying she’d follow and I wouldn’t have to do what I’d threatened and actually carry her. I felt powerful enough to manage it, but she’d severely slow me down.

Within a minute, I heard the snap of twigs and rustle of grass as she trailed after me.

“What exactly do you need me for?” she asked after a few minutes had passed. “What’s the next challenge?”

“All I know is they need some of each of our blood. We have to enter a domed building together. No one seems to know what’s inside.” Well, Visha might have had a pretty good idea. Though she hadn’t wanted to tell me.

“Did Visha tell you that?” Regan guessed. “That traitorous bitch. How dare she take Blake’s side.”

“Yes, you seem to have a lot of traitors in your life,” I quipped. “Once we’re out of here, you might want to do some soul-searching about why that is.”

“I think I’d rather drink a few thralls and fix my broken nails instead, thanks.” She sighed and I didn’t have to turn my head to know she was looking at her hands. “Fuck. They’ll never be the same.”

I held back the comments that were on the tip of my tongue and instead continued leading the way back to the dome.

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CHAPTER 54 - MEDRA

We were the last ones.

The outskirts of the dome were empty as we approached.

The pair of heavy stone doors leading the way inside sat slightly ajar.

In front of them was a stone pillar topped with a small offering bowl and a knife. Despite the many pairs of consorts who had come before us, the bowl was empty and the knife was clean.

Another highblood mystery. I wondered if Professor Wispwood had been here, working her magic.

“Well, this is it,” I muttered, glancing at Regan. “You want to go first or should I do the honors?”

Regan lifted her chin. “I always go first, Pendragon.” She stepped forward and lifted up the ritual knife. With a swift motion, she cut a small mark in her palm and let a few drops of blood dribble into the bowl.

The stone doors groaned, cracking open further, but not fully. We were only halfway there.

“Your turn,” Regan said, holding the blade out to me.

Instinctively I reached for it.

The second my fingers brushed the handle, Regan yanked the blade forward, slicing it across my forearm instead of my palm. I gasped as blood poured from the wound into the offering bowl.

“What the hell?” I hissed, clutching my arm as crimson continued to drip onto the ground. Yet I could already feel Blake’s blood working inside me, healing me. The tear in my flesh was starting to close.

Regan smiled darkly. “Whoops. Sorry. My hand must have slipped.”

I glared at her as the doors opened with an ominous creak.

Regan laughed and strode into the building without a backwards glance.

Resisting the urge to pull her back by the hair, I took a deep breath and then quickly tore a piece of cloth from the edge of my shirt to wrap my arm, before following her.

Inside the dome, the atmosphere was cold.

Darkness swallowed us as soon as we entered. But as the doors slammed shut behind us, torches flared to life one by one around the walls.

I glanced at the wall to my left and then stepped up to it, grabbing the two swords that had been hanging there. Beside them hung two small shields, bucklers. I tossed one of each to Regan and she caught them.

“Try not to stab me in the back,” I muttered.

She batted her eyelashes. “I make no promises.”

We walked inside the interior of the dome. It was a lot like the arena. A central, circular chamber with a domed roof. There were no tiers of seats though. The building was empty except for us.

Almost empty.

Two creatures stepped out slowly from the shadows as more torches along the walls flared up to illuminate them.

I froze.

Beside me, Regan was shaking her head. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, sounding annoyed. She took up a fighting stance and brandished her sword as the two creatures slowly advanced. “Not these things again. They used these last year. Can’t they come up with anything better for these pathetic losers when they flunk out?”

I couldn’t even find the words to answer. All I could do was stare.

The creatures were grotesque amalgamations of what had once been students–blightborn students. Human flesh had been combined with arachnid traits. Legs split into eight limbs. Mouths split into mandibles that dripped and clicked as they moved.

From what Regan had just said, it sounded as if this was a common challenge in the Games. Turning former students into monstrosities.

I thought of all the consorts who had come before us. Of all the battles that had already been fought in the dome today.

Maybe, just maybe I could have steeled myself to face those...things. If one of the students hadn’t been someone I knew.

Naveen scuttled slowly towards me, the twisted creature that held his soul a horrible mockery of the sweet, goofy boy he had once been.

His brown skin, once warm and full of life, had taken on a sickly, blotchy hue. Patches of thick, dark hair sprouted in uneven clusters along his arms and back. Where his legs should have been were now eight jointed limbs, thin and spindly, jutting from his sides. They bent and clicked unnaturally as he moved in stilted steps.

His back was hunched, the spider-like limbs supporting a stretched, elongated frame, hardly human at all, giving him a lopsided, horrifyingly insectoid appearance.

And his face. Oh, gods, his face. His boyish features were twisted into a nightmare, eyes bulging and black like a spider’s, devoid of all human emotion. Predatory. Rapacious. Sharp mandibles extended from his mouth, twitching grotesquely and dripping with a viscous liquid.

Beside me, Regan was unphased. If anything, she seemed amused by my horror.

She gave a low, mocking chuckle. “Get a grip, Pendragon. Choking up already? Guess I don’t need to worry about planning my revenge after all. Your little friend is going to finish you off before I can.”

She darted across the room as my stomach turned. Part of me wanted to slap her sideways. But Naveen–if any part of him really was Naveen anymore–took another step closer and my focus shifted back.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Regan engage the second monster. A spider-like creature I could just barely recognize as a First Year girl. She’d shared a piece of parchment with me in History of Sangratha once.

I turned back to Naveen, trying to block out the pain I was feeling.

I forced myself to shove away the memories of Naveen’s infectious laughter in class. His goofy smile. Tried to forget about how he’d never be able to tell Florence how he felt now. He’d never be able to tell us anything again.

My hands were trembling. I wanted to run but there was nowhere to go.

Naveen lunged.

I barely raised my buckler in time. The force of the blow sent me stumbling backwards, arm throbbing from the impact.

He was fast. One of his legs caught me in the side, slicing through my shirt. Pain bloomed instantly.

He was moving again, his spider limbs propelling him forward with terrifying speed.

I dodged, rolling to the side as Naveen’s mandibles snapped down inches from my face.

The air was filled with the clicking and clattering of his legs as he turned to face me again.

“I can’t do this. I fucking can’t.” I heard my voice crack.

You have to. You have to be strong, Orcades’ voice insisted, piercing through the fog. You have to let go of him. He's gone, Medra. This isn't him. Not anymore.