They were so close, but things were never so simple within the Tunnels. The magic and energy that lived here meant the Tunnels were almost alive, and if anything, it enjoyed a twist ending.
The walls shifted and spat out Don and Clara ahead of them. Allyra’s heart dropped.
Don was the first to notice them, and instead of moving toward the exit, as any normal person would’ve done, he pulled his partner to a halt, a sadistic smile working its way to his lips. An identical look of maniacal elation was mirrored on Clara’s face when she turned to them.
Comprehension dawned, and Allyra realized that Don and Clara didn’t just want to win the challenge—they wanted to linger in the forgetting of the Tunnels. They wanted to wound and maim. They wanted to play.
A shiver of disgust trembled up her spine, but next to her, Jason smiled, every bit as dark and dangerous as their opponents. He slid his twin swords from the baldric.
“Are you ready to have some fun?” Don called out, stalking forward, holding his massive, two-handed sword before him.
Jason laughed, but there was no humor to the sound. “Yes,” he replied sardonically. Without so much as a glance at Allyra, he leapt forward, attacking with stunning viciousness. He moved with his usual ease and grace, but there was an uncharacteristic carelessness about him, an echo of his frustrations. It gave Don an opening, where usually there would be none.
Jason was distracted, overeager. He was just a beat too slow as Don’s sword came down, cutting a cruel arc through the air. Jason’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake. He was too slow, but Allyra wasn’t.
Don’s sword clashed against hers, breaking its path toward Jason. But she’d misjudged the pure strength and weight of it. Steel met steel with a violent clang, but only one survived the impact—it wasn’t hers. Her sword broke, and she’d only succeeded in cushioning the blow but not stopping it altogether. As half her sword clattered to the ground, Don’s cut deep into Jason’s arm, and he let out a howl of pain and rage.
Fully occupied with Don, she barely noticed as a whip coiled itself around her ankle and jerked her abruptly from her feet. She fell backward, the air exploding from her lungs as she hit the ground. Clara dragged her backward, past Jason, who had one hand clasped against his arm, blood seeping through his fingers and dripping to the ground. Past Don, who stamped down on her arm.
Allyra screamed in agony as he ground his heel down on her wrist, forcing her to drop her remaining sword. Don looked down at her, and she saw the light in his eyes, relishing the experience of not just beating her but hurting her. Sadistic joy shone through his dark eyes as he savored her pain. Clara yanked on the whip, and Allyra’s shoulder dislocated with a sickening, liquid pop as Don continued to hold her arm down.
Allyra’s vision wavered as the pain washed over her, and for a moment, her mind was a perfect blank as she drifted toward nothingness. Jason rejoined the fight, blood dripping from his arm, his entire left side drenched in crimson. But none of it slowed him down, and this time, he fought with all of the tight precision she was so used to seeing. It was enough for Don to release her arm, and Allyra struggled to gather the frayed edges of her thoughts.
Clara was now striding toward her, the curved edge of her cruel scimitar catching the light streaming in from the exit. After a moment of hesitation, Allyra allowed the tigers to come to life on her wrist. As the tigers began to twist and writhe with feline grace, her vision lost focus, and instead of the bloodlust she’d come to associate with using the Tiger Swords, all she felt was a deep, almost endless hollowness. Energy fled from her muscles, as if swept away by a giant wave, leaving nothing but weakness behind.
Allyra fought against the roiling waves of nausea as Clara continued to pull her backward. Her eyes were bleary and filled with a thousand dark spots. Allyra severed her connection to the Tigers, allowing them to still back into the silvery tattoo on her wrist. Abruptly, her vision cleared, and the fog receded from her mind. Desperate for a weapon, she reached behind her for a sword before remembering that there were none left in the baldric.
Clara stamped back down on Allyra’s arm were Don’s foot had been a second ago. Clara’s full, red lips curled into a sneer. “A bit sore, is it?” she taunted, with the same sadistic pleasure Don had displayed. It was clear why Don and Clara made such a strong team—they were both psychopathic sadists.
Allyra needed a weapon.
She allowed the tigers to come to life once more, steeling herself against the sudden weakness and fighting to stay conscious. Using every drop of energy she had left, Allyra forced the tigers into a tiny dagger. And with one final push, she pulled herself up and drove it deep into Clara’s calf.
Clara fell away and let out a wrathful shriek.
The tigers settled back into the tattoo, and Allyra used her returning strength to scramble to her feet. She looked up to see Jason locked in a furious battle with Don. Don might’ve been stronger, but in the narrow, confined space of the Tunnels, Jason’s superior speed meant that he was still able to hold his own.
“Run!” Jason yelled without looking at her.
Allyra ran.
She dodged past Don toward the exit and saw Jason turn to follow her. She was only strides away from the doorway when she was suddenly jerked backward again. The whip was still wound around her ankle.
Jason grabbed her arm, holding her up
