Anomaly ━━ Matt vs Chris Sturniolo¹

𝖝𝖝𝖝𝖎. The Bowl of Bones

[ tw: violence, death ]

𝖝𝖝𝖝𝖎. The Bowl of Bones

THE SHIELD EXPLODES to life above them, a giant purple dome of veined glass like the one in the Spiral Garden. Not to protect them ━ but to protect the crowd. Sparks of lightning pulse through the monstrous ceiling, teasing Maeve. Without Salem, the lightning would be hers and she could fight. She could show this world who she is. But that is not to be.

Matt shifts, putting out his arm. The air ripples around him, distorted by the waves of heat rolling off his body. He angles himself toward the others, protecting Maeve.

"Stay behind me as long as you can," he says, letting his own heat push her back. The flame maker sparks, and fire crackles between his fingers, growing up his arms. Something in his shirt keeps it from burning, and the fabric doesn't smoke away. "When they break through the wall, you'll have to run. Valencia's weakest, but the strongarm's slow. You can outrun him. They'll try to drag this out, to make it a show." Then softly, "They won't let us die quickly."

"What about you? Isla will ━ "

"Let me worry about Isla."

The executioners move steadily, like wolves stalking prey. They spread out across the middle of the arena, each one ready to advance. Somewhere, metal scrapes and a piece of the arena floor slides away, revealing a sloshing pool of water at Lord Isla's feet. He smiles, drawing the water up to him in a menacing shield. Maeve remembers his daughter Adriana dueling Chris in Training. She destroyed him.

All around, the crowd jeers. Damon roars with them, letting his famed temper take over. He smacks at his armor, ringing it like a bell. At his side, Valencia spins her knives, sliding them over her knuckles with a grin.

"This won't be like before, Red," she crows. "No tricks can save you now."

Tricks. Valencia knows Maeve's abilities better than most; she knows they weren't tricks. But she believes. She ignores the truth for something easier to understand.

The Clair boy grins to himself. Like his sister Elle, he is a shadow. When he flickers out of being, disappearing in the bright sunlight, Matt moves faster than Maeve thought possible, swinging out his arms in a wide arc like he's throwing a haymaker punch.

A roar of flame follows his arm, burning up the sand, separating himself and Maeve from their executioners. But the fire is surprisingly weak. The sand will barely burn.

Maeve can't stop herself from glancing back up at Chris, wanting to scream at him, only to find he's still staring at her with that insufferable crooked smirk. Not only has he taken her abilities, but he's limiting Matt's as much as he can.