Caelynn
“Fight. Win.” Thoseare my only instructions for my first test. The blinding light around me falls away into nothing. Total blackness covers every inch. And then, a blindfold is wrapped over my eyes. I can’t see anything at all. Wonderful.
My ears begin buzzing too.
“Hello?” I call. I can’t even hear my own voice.
All right, this is going to be an interesting fight.
No sound. No sight.
My heart rate picks up.
I crouch, preparing for an attack. Do I move forward? Do I move backward? How do I fight if I can’t see or hear?
I can’t even hear my own breathing, even though I’m near gasping in anticipation. “Where? What do I fight?” My voice dies at end of my lips.
“You’ll know,” comes a whisper. Well, I can hear him at least.
“Thank you for the detailed instructions,” I hiss. Then, I take a tiny step forward. My mind whips over all the possible things I’d have to fight. What would the Ancient King want to test me on? What would he need me to prove before he declares himself my ally?
His mate was a Shadow fae who betrayed him. He sees her in me. Will he need me to prove loyalty and sincerity? Honesty? Compassion?
Or would this Ancient King still value cunning and ruthlessness?
I remember that he was the king that always wanted fae to rule themselves. He was benevolent. It seems likely he’d remain the same, but ten thousand years is a long time, even when sleeping.
He’ll need me to prove that my end game is not power.
The blow comes so quickly, so powerfully, it knocks me immediately off my feet. My head slams into the hard ground, sending a ricochet of pain through me. Water splashes up over my head. I leap to my feet, shaking off the discomfort, but the frigid water leaves me dripping and shivering. I judge the distance of my unknown foe based on where the hit came from.
It felt like a baseball bat, which is not exactly helpful. I go entirely still, crouching low, and I wait.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I tell my foe. My words die in the void. But I speak just in case they can hear and understand me. It’s a far stretch, but you never know.
The water at my feet shifts. I can’t hear it, or see it, but it crests just a tad higher over the arch of my foot. And that’s how I know the second blow is coming.
I duck and sidestep. The water splashing to my shins tells me it worked. My foe leaped past me. Maybe even fell in the process. I could leap at them; I could probably even shove my dagger into their heart if I got lucky.
But I still don’t know what I’m facing. Maybe they have a long sword. Maybe it’s a damn scorpion with a spike waiting to impale me. The options are limitless. I will not jump into this until I’m able to better judge the situation.
I wait a second time, focusing on the water. This time, they wait too.
When my attacker still doesn’t move, I take the opportunity to make my first move. I shift to the left, and then to the right. I don’t know if they can see me, but my best guess says they can’t. So, I want to confuse the few context clues they can get from my movements.
I twist, moving in toward the pulsing warmth of the nearby body, and pull my sword back then slam the hilt down, where I’m guessing I will find a head.
I find only open air, and then a blade slices across my forearm.
I shriek and dive away. I grip the wound as warm blood drips down to the water below. It’s shallow, but it stings and is already slick with blood. My foe anticipated my move too well. Maybe they can see better than I’d thought. The water rustling from my own movements leaves me vulnerable, and I can’t tell if they are coming for me. I twist away just in case, and the sharp movement of air tells me I only barely missed having my throat split open.
