'ᴡᴇ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴇɴᴛɪᴍᴇɴᴛ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ʙᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴠᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ.'
Only one month has passed in Daliah Viper's life trying to reintegrate at court and follow the uneasy trails her eyes have caught.
One month filled with blood, tribulations, and l...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The wall flickers and licks over the ground higher than I stand, a heat that makes me relive the moment the hawk fell from the sky.
A second I stop harshly. Boots scrunching, I dig my heels deep into the ground. It gets softer and more sandy the closer everything runs, flees, chases or follows to the water. The dog barks low.
Behind me, everyone moves fast. The fire is a trick we should have used to cut them off. The heat ignites my scars with a tickle.
But I am not scared of fire.
My anger seeps through my freshly healed wounds, the scars I chose to carry, another badge to show off, to show the world I don't care about their beauty, to show the world they won't kill me, they won't smother me.
It evaporates at the wall of flames like the water some Osanos throws and hurls around behind me, joining the fray. To stop the fire and guarantee the push.
Because they are lucky. But they shouldn't be able to escape. If they do-
The dog's senses are my warning. The black ears drop, and the black, sleek body cowers back, even though we are still roped together and don't fear the fire. A dog's ears can pick up things better than anything else. And just as my pack has picked up uneasy on the lightning in the arena, when the other noise was a mere coincidence before, now the electricity makes us drop.
I don't share the warning with the nymph.
With a dazzling, frizzled smell, the wild found energy comes out of nowhere, again, impossible and angering me, and it finds at least one of them. The smell is horrible. I can pick all the segments up through the dog's rapid moving nose. The burned hair. The cracked skin.
Fire and Lightning.
What is my gun supposed to do against THAT?
Again.
My life is built on the maxim that someone will always be stronger than me.
I remember that as a woman always having to crane her neck up even when wearing heels.
I remember that because I am the only daughter from the Viper brother that didn't get the titles.
I remember the day I sat in a grey block of stone and concrete, with two beautiful girls gossiping. I remember the day in the arena like some blurry dissociation, cheering for misfortune, small satisfactions to see Samson getting mauled and throw into a wall.
At that time, I had nothing. Now I am supposed to have won some.
I owe bullets to the rebels for my scars and the dead animal has to be repaid as well.
