I am practically suffocating in my hooded cloak, long-sleeve shirt, heavy pants, boots, gloves, and tinted spectacles. I look up at Ember with my lips in a perfect line. “I can’t do this shit anymore. It’s gotta be ninety degrees out!” I complain. She scoffs.

  “I assume that means ‘hot’? Well, it’s better than being killed as a cultist on sight. Your tattoos and new, gaudy piercings alone will draw too much attention. A face in a thousand children’s books and propaganda posters along with limbs of steel are going to be a bridge too far. Walk around in weather appropriate clothes and you’ll be dead in a week. Deal with it,” Ember dismisses. I turn to where I expect Sara to complain, only to be reminded that she is gone. This puts my complaints about the weather in perspective a bit, but I am legitimately growing concerned that this will eventually be just as obvious.

  “If I walked into a bank dressed like this they would set off a silent alarm,” I counter.

  “What does that even mean?” August asks. I glance at him on the other side of the room. We are all prepping for the day together as usual, getting our complaints out before we are in public and it’s no longer safe to speak freely. Or, at least we are discussing the day’s plans and I’m complaining while I still can. But no one else has to cook themselves alive all day, every day. I’m justified in a little whining.

  “Just another reference to whatever reality she grew up in, ignore it,” Autumn drawls. Her tone conveys annoyance, but it makes me smile anyway. She has been engaging in conversation more lately, and just feeling more generally alive. I’m not a therapist, and as familiar with grief as I am, I don’t know more than the basic stages of it. I know she is still in the depths of it, but she is moving forward. Processing. And she can, at least, interact with everyone now. She is far less amiable than she once was, but I have been there myself. I’m just happy to hear her voice everyday.

  “Autumn’s right,” I agree. “Just off in my own little world. I suppose I’ll survive another day of this torture.”

  “Just one more day,” Autumn jokes with a smirk but little humor. Christ, that’s a dark reference to make. I guess I’m not one to complain about gallows humor. Still. Maybe, with Sara gone, I should start sharing a room with Autumn again. Moving forward doesn’t mean being safe, after-all. I’ll bring it up later. For now, we have more important things to do.

  “Right,” I agree. “You know, you two don’t have to come to this. It’s not going to be pretty.”

  “Yes we do,” Autumn answers. “We need to be there.” She makes eye contact with me and her face is iron. I get the message, and nod.

  “Well, off we go, I suppose,” I agree.

  “About time,” Ember grumbles. I stick my tongue out at her as she rolls her eyes. “Seriously? You pierced that too? The lip, nose, and eyebrow weren’t enough? Are you trying to get the sages’ attention with all this? They will kill you for even a suspicion, you moron.” I shrug.

  “I wonder about that. I think my fate would probably be something entirely different than death, if the sages themselves confront me. But that’s beside the point. The more enchanted mana sources I have the less sick I get, the quicker my cancer heals, and the more power I will have. Especially if my last fight is anything to go by. Besides, I suspect I won’t be able to hide what I am much longer. Even if I weren’t planning a few extra modifications to help in the days to come. Anyway, depending on how the day goes, I might not need to.”

  “You aren’t just saying that so you won’t have to dress like that anymore, are you? Our lives are at stake here,” Ember asks.

  “No. No, I have no intention of risking any of you more than I have to,” I answer seriously. I can try to joke my way through a lot, but putting my loved ones in danger without a second thought is too raw a subject for me to joke about. The shift in my tone is clear on the faces of my friends, and the room descends into an awkward silence. I sigh. “Come on. Today is going to be shitty, might as well get it done.”

  We leave the inn and hire a carriage, no longer relying on Ember’s money as much as Turner’s. I shudder as we ride through the city. Despite all the sounds of a bustling community, it carries an uncanny quiet. No matter where we go or how far we travel, I can only feel grief from Autumn and August. Even the trickle Ember is allowed when Sara is near is missing. Only the twins are feeling any grief at all. We are almost to the arena, a place where human lives are spent for an afternoon’s entertainment, and I don’t feel any grief from anyone. It’s sickening. I examine Autumn as she watches the town pass through the window.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask for the thousandth time. I can feel it. I know how she is feeling, but I have to check.

  “I still feel horrible, thanks for asking again,” she responds. Which is fair. Since Sara left, I’ve been checking on her almost religiously. I don’t know how the sages rob people of their grief here. If they have to see them first, or if a person’s presence in the country is enough. I do know that once it affects someone, Sara struggles to remove it permanently. If we could have risked everyone else by keeping Sara here, it would have been much safer for Autumn. But we couldn’t, and even Autumn understood that. I am relieved that she still seems safe from outside interference. For now.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  I don’t have time to press any further as we finally arrive, pay the coachman, and make our way to the entrance of the arena. It is clearly modeled after the Colosseum, which supports my theory that at least some of the sages are from my world. Probably. I guess a big round arena with theater style seating isn’t too complex to be recreated in multiple realities. I shiver again at the complete lack of grief as Ember pays our entrance fees. I’ll make sure to steal that back later. We don’t really need it, but I don’t much feel like giving some asshole money for the miserable day we are about to have.

  The roar of the crowd is deafening as we make our way in, scaling the stairs to find the closest unoccupied seats we can. Despite showing up early, the fights started before we got here and the front rows are already full. I almost stumble as a massive wave of mana washes over me. A man near the front has released his aura and is throwing his magic at the arena below. Massive stones and steel disappear as soon as they pass the spectator wall. Not dissolving. Not getting knocked back. They simply cease to exist, well before they reach the fighters below. “She cheated! She fucking cheated I won’t stand for this! Do you have any idea who I am?” The mage yells, trying to shove off the guards who come to collect him. Unfortunately for him, they flare their own mana, and have mana suppression cuffs around him in an instant.

  He has enough mana to be a prominent noble in Potestia, but not nearly enough to stand up to security here, apparently. Well, that’s just great. Over the fighting area, the two combatants are projected using light mana, so even from the upper seating they can be clearly observed. It’s not unlike the illusion I used when I killed Darian. Just as the man’s aura disappears, I see what upset him so much, assuming he bet on the large man, currently on his knees below. A massive woman, maybe six and a half feet tall and clad in red with a horned helmet, holds a single-edged blade to the side of his neck. She looks up toward the stands, and the illusion changes to show a man with olive skin and sharp, angry cheekbones. Markus, the Gladiator Sage. He holds his hand up with his thumb to the side, before lifting it and pointing it towards his throat. Yeah, this guy has got to be from Earth.

  The illusion returns to the two below, and the woman spins, decapitating her opponent. The twins tense beside me as I clench my fists and the crowd begins cheering. I feel sick as the now bloodied woman bows her head, and turns to walk toward her entrance. She has metal cuffs around each wrist and her neck.

  “Are those for mana suppression, or general slavery?” I ask. Ember grunts.

  “The former. Most fights in the arena use no magic, as most combatants don’t have combat magic. Only special fights allow any magic at all,” she explains. I begin to bite my thumbnail as I consider that, as a loud voice interrupts us to address the crowd.

  “Things looked pretty shaky for a while there, especially when Gargoyle nearly took her leg, but as usual, the Demon is an unshakeable iron wall! A woman with the strength of three men and the ferocity of a dozen, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present the victor, Bahamut the Demon!” it shouts, sound mana enhancing it. The illusion focuses on the woman's face as she rolls her eyes. Without acknowledging the cheering crowd, she disappears. The announcer moves on to the next bout as we find our seats, each of us feeling varying levels of sickness.

  “This is disgusting,” August whispers. I nod. I glare across the stadium to the prominently featured box where the sage sits. He’ll be my first target. I turn to Ember.

  “The mana suppression, does it work like regular cuffs or like riot spikes?” I ask. Ember looks at me with suspicious eyes.

  “Why?” She asks with a flat tone.

  “You know damn well why. Which is it,” I respond and she sighs.

  “Normal cuffs, I suspect. No reason to go to the extra effort for something like this. This is a terrible idea,” she groans.

  “What is?” August asks?

  “Lily, I don’t like this idea,” Autumn says, barely audible. It’s softer than her voice has been in a while. “Especially with Sara gone. It’s not safe.” This surprises me considering Autumn’s recent irritation with me, but perhaps it shouldn’t. She is still Autumn. She is still my friend. She has redirected some of the anger at herself toward me, which was always coming, but that doesn’t erase everything else. That doesn’t erase whose sister I am.

  “Look at them,” I say as the new warriors come out. One man wears what appear to be tiger pelts and a helmet with a tiger's face, his eyes visible through the fangs in its mouth. The other wears little, a cloth and a giant axe. “The fighters here are themed.”

  “I’m sorry, what are we talking about?” August pushes.

  “It’s way too dangerous. You’ll be visible to the whole world,” Ember hisses at me. I shrug.

  “There is a whole fucking culture here. Even without grief, there must be movements dedicated to fighting back, right? I can’t hide forever, especially as I continue to . . .” I trail off looking around and surrounding us in a sound barrier. It’s annoyingly visible with no other grief sources, but who cares. People have private chats all the time. “If I continue to alter my body. This getup is also going to attract just as much attention eventually, it’s obvious I’m trying to cover something up. And they have themes, Ember.”

  “I know they have fucking themes. But you can’t really be considering this,” she complains.

  “I agree, Lily. We’ll figure something else out,” Autumn whispers, her previous annoyance replaced with worry.

  “There is no better way to get close to that sage,” I counter. “And it will be really convenient for all our future moves if there is someone in the city who famously looks exactly like the demon queen, Lillith, and for a plausible reason. I can’t keep telling people it’s a sex work gimmick.” August’s eyes widen as he realizes what my plan is.

  “You want to fight? Don’t you have to be someone’s slave for that?” He asks, his face paling.

  “No,” Ember grumbles. “For a chance at wealth and glory, free combatants are allowed to register and compete as well. But almost nobody is stupid enough to actually do it.”

  “Almost,” I agree with a grin. This will make a great distraction. I just have to figure out a way to avoid killing my opponents. “Let’s see about putting a Lillith costume together.”