Lucien POV

The horn’s call was a blade slicing through the dawn the next for our second battle.

It echoed off the stone pillars, a cold, final sound that left no room for mercy. The sound did not just hang in the air. It vibrated through the soles of my boots, a physical tremor that ran up my spine and settled in my teeth. The last remnants of night bled away, revealing an sky the color of a fresh bruise, tinged with sickly yellow on the horizon.

I stood at the edge of the dueling platform, ...