The arena had gone quiet. The last of the crowd was filing out into the Caldmore evening, their voices a distant rumble through the stone walls of the competitors' tunnel. The highlights were still playing on the screens above the empty battlefield.
Lysandra's rods coming down on Baines. Dominic's bloodied grin. The core shattering a heartbeat before victory. But down here, in the cold beneath the stands, the only sound was the drip of water somewhere in the stone and the distant shuffle of boots on the floor above.
Team Three had scattered.
Kellan had been the first to go. He'd pushed himself off the wall, flexed his newly healed arm one last time, and offered Dominic a tired salute. His scout's leathers were scuffed grey at the knees.
"Captain. I think I'm going to sleep for a day. Maybe two."
He walked out before anyone could respond, his boots scuffing the stone. The sound faded into the tunnel and was gone.
