SHATTER

Chapter Ten

Flames. Raine's chest burned with fire as her lungs worked to supply her needs. It had been a while since Raine had excreted this much energy in a day and for one opponent. In truth, she had become complacent. There was no one to challenge her unless she decided to rival the King, and she would rather die than bare her teeth at him. The more energy she gave to this fight, the more she felt her beast churn with envy. It wished to be let out, to draw blood. It raked its claws against the confines of her mind. If Raine were any weaker, she would fall prey to her own monster and feed into the urge to slaughter. Turn this arena to dust in her wake.

Sweat dripped from every pore in her body, dripping down her chin and temples. Droplets flung to the floor with every swing of her arms or dodge of her head.  She was unaware of how long the fight had gone on. It could have been mere minutes, but it had felt like hours. The movements between her and Mavex were so fast that they appeared as a blur. It was a wonder that the audience could keep up with them at all. The arena walls of the south and west had been beaten almost through from today's tribulations. The slabs of concrete and stone that worked as doors above the gates were dangling by loose, thick chains as they had been broken somewhere earlier in this fight. The grass had been uprooted to its rich brown soil. Debris of stone and rocks larger than boulders littered the area.

Mavex, with his half transformation, had used his claws like knives, ripping into the flesh on her stomach, arms, and neck. At one point, he had sliced her shoulder right to the bone. Every time her skin sealed itself back together, Mavex found himself another spot to dig into. Raine wished she had her knives to return the favor. Her curved blades would go through bone like butter, leaving a clean line of lethal accuracy. However, without her weapons, she was left with her dull, chewed-up nails and speed. But she had dealt her own fair share of blows. With her skill, Mavex stood before her with a busted lip, brow, and a broken cheekbone. Strike for a strike; the two pummeled each other with vicious attacks.

Raine ducked backward as Mavex's claws careened over her head, inches away from slicing her from temple to temple. Raine quickly snapped back, allowing her momentum to bring her fist to his face, striking him. In that split moment, she could feel her knuckles crack through the bones in his cheek again. Mavex reared back, stumbling. Raine used this moment to advance on him, reigning down an onslaught of punches. Using his forearms to block the hits to his face, he left his ribs wide open. Raine slammed her foot into the left of Mavex, throwing him to the side.

The kick pushed Mavex across the arena. Blood poured out from his mouth like a running faucet. The deep crimson blared out against the whiteness of his skin. Mavex rolled the coppery liquid around on his tongue. His insides sparked, evoking his beast. It raged at the taste of its own blood. The hairs on his neck grew thick and black. His teeth elongated, completely changing the shape of Mavex's jaw. This transformation was not gradual; it was hasty, brutally fast, ripping apart Mavex's skinwalker form. Mavex's eyesight grew sharper and his senses stronger. He had lost the fight with himself. It enraged him further. This minuscule, pathetic skinwalker had pushed out his monster. Kingdom be damned. He was going to kill her.

A woman, no, a runt with more power than he currently possessed, matching him in a fight. It was absurd. It was outrageous, and today, he would strip her of her godliness. Submission, while you stand in a high position, is akin to death, and he yearned to see her kneel. The woman had walked between packs and regions without so much of a whisper that she was there. She had watched them all for years and never properly acknowledged their ranks.

Raine's insides shook, not with nerves but with excitement. Finally, he was going to stop playing with her and fight. The beast is what she was after— his beast. And in honesty, she was getting tired. It was about time they got to the climax of this fight. The sun had moved during their match, allowing the sky to breathe its pink, orange, and purple colors. Her hunger was overtaking her, and she could swear she smelled the kitchen cooking up their sweetest batch of honey butter-dipped biscuits.