Chapter Two

Entry

Nothing. I feel like my head is underwater. Nothing. No sadness nor anger. Nothing, nothing, nothing. No emotions, no opinions. Not even a breath of fresh air.

I have peeled the skin of my humanity back to nothingness. Where did my fighting spirit go? I miss them.

-Phoenix

--

The Tournament grew since last year, like bacteria from heat. Indeed, the sun scorched, and indeed, hordes of people seemed to multiply every step closer Phoenix got to the arena.

The arena stood between the Highlands and the Castle, between the natives free of tax and the royals free of Lowlanders. Most Lowlanders didn't make it into the guard, and fewer bothered to come to the Tournament.

Stuck outside the gates, Phoenix couldn't see inside the arena, but she could smell it. It smelled as though food was left out to rot in the sweltering sun. Sweaty men pushed their way through the entrance, hands held tight on their betting money. Outside, the Tournament was shaped like a great bowl, thrown together with makeshift wooden stands for a single day, expanding so wide at the top it cast a shadow over Phoenix as she approached.

For every man rushing into the arena, there had to be at least two already inside. Shouts inside boomed so loud they almost hid the thunder of stomping feet demanding entertainment.

Great metal bars made up the front gates, marked with soldiers at each checkpoint. Soldiers got in for free when they showed their guard badge, and everyone else, Highlanders, showed their paid tickets. Phoenix approached a soldier wearing their uniform: a purple jacket and pants with gold seams and a small lion on top of a comet stitched into the left breast.

The guard at the gate talked to his neighbor, unable to talk and work at the same time. Phoenix couldn't help but overhear his shouts.

"I heard this year will be particularly good to watch. Sullivan is a guaranteed winner- huge, bloodthirsty, the whole deal. You should put all your bets on him. That's what I'm doing."

As much as Phoenix wanted to hear about her future component, she had to get inside. Lateness wasn't an option. Beside her, fellow spectators passed through the gates, shoving each other forward and shouting curses.

"Excuse me, I need to get in," Phoenix tried.

The guard turned to her and snarled, "The show won't be starting for a while, you're in no hurry."

"I'm not just watching the Tournament," Phoenix told him, hoping to create a sense of urgency.

"Oh, are you working too? You know, if you work hard enough, they'll promote you from cleaning duty."

"No, I'm participating," she urged.

The man's brow furrowed, and he looked at her like she had a second head. "No, you're not."

Phoenix nodded.

"But you're a girl."

"Women can participate as well. I'm a descendant of a winner."

The soldier snickered and stared at her soldier badge still outstretched to him. His head swiveled around, as though desperate for someone to see how ridiculous this was.

"Alright listen here, girl," the man leaned in and muttered the words so Phoenix could barely hear them, "you can try and act all tough and powerful, but you're at a serious disadvantage. Make no mistake- Sullivan will crush you. Do yourself a favor and go home."

"No," she said, "I have to fight."

The man shook his head. "I tried to warn you. Just get out of my sight and try to lose without too many injuries."

Phoenix nodded and stepped beside him, making it into the arena. Beams of sunlight streamed past the wooden structure above her, where feet pounded so aggressively dirt and dust spilled from the cracks of wood, filling the air with a grainy texture.

Pound, pound, pound.

Spectators squeezed through narrow tunnels leading out to the stands. Phoenix wouldn't sit among them. Instead, she followed the signs leading her backstage, where she had less trouble getting in after showing her badge.

Backstage proved small, too small, so small it was uncomfortable for Phoenix once she saw the five other competitors and the sheer amount of space their bulked bodies took.

Two competitors hadn't shown up yet.

A single long bench divided backstage in two. One half, the entrance Phoenix came through, the other, a tunnel leading out from below the stands onto the arena's stage. And right beside the tunnel, a paper was nailed to the wall. The paper was stained, ink pools on the corner, and sprawled on it were eight names, including hers. Phoenix's first opponent had been scratched off the list, next to it reading "Forfeit."

Phoenix was warned by her commander yesterday that it might happen- an opponent refusing to fight her because she was a girl. But that still left one competitor unaccounted for.

She glanced around and noticed no windows, no way to see what was happening inside the arena except through the narrow tunnel leading out. Phoenix should talk to the other men, but she couldn't bring herself to engage with more people.

The bench groaned as she sat down and put her head in her hands, legs bouncing uncontrollably. Breathe, in, out. No, not shaky like that, strong, sure, confident. Useless.

Phoenix was so nervous that she missed the call for the first fight. It wasn't until she heard cheers erupt from the crowd above that she jumped off the bench and made her way over to the tunnel. Her hands parted a sea of men until she stood at the front, the arena within view.

Phoenix's eyes froze open as she watched her future opponent beat a man pinned to the floor. Blood sprayed everywhere, and the body underneath the bombardment of fists lay unmoving. Again and again, beat after beat, the victim lifelessly took it all.

Pound, Pound, Pound.

It hit her like a smack: her opponent was beating his rival to death. Any hope of calming down shot out of Phoenix.

The bell rang, its swing reflected the sun, but the noise was drowned out by the boisterous crowd.

Hear the bell- why couldn't they hear the bell?

When Phoenix entered the Tournament of Crowns, she was told three rules. One, no weapons allowed; two, stay in the chalked-up circle, or it's a forfeit; and three, the fight ended when someone yielded or was rendered unconscious. When one of those two things happened, the bell would ring, and everyone would stop fighting. No one was supposed to die.

Her opponent got three more swings in before the referee was finally able to pull him away from the body. Here, with her feet on the ground, stands towered above Phoenix and voices blended into a choir of one:

"Sullivan! Sullivan! Sullivan!

Sullivan stood up from the ground, placing a foot on top of his victim, and held his chin high up at the crowd. Then, with a war cry, he thrusted a fist into the air. He turned in his spot, slowly soaking in the entirety of the cheering crowd, until he faced the tunnel. His eyes met Phoenix's. They were narrowed and glowing, filled with blood lust, and matched with a smile that stretched sinisterly up to his eyes.

He brought his fist down from the air and pointed it at Phoenix, his next victim. Phoenix's body shivered violently, and she turned away from him, exiting the tunnel.

Phoenix was there because of mom, who was the only female to ever win the Tournament of Crowns. Phoenix would be the second, she would make sure of it.

She had to make sure of it.

Mom had won the Tournament, mom's win allowed Phoenix the opportunity to fight today, mom's training would ensure a victory, but the others-

The other competitors may be descendants as well, but many could've won the mock-trial Tournament to earn their spot. Many may have already fought each other before.

The bench thanked Phoenix for sitting on it by bowing in the middle. She met the other contender's eyes. Wide-eyed and shocked, as if they, too, were realizing they were dead meat. Phoenix's eyes darted to that paper hanging from the wall. Yes, she had passed the first fight due to forfeit, but Sullivan was next.

The man beside Phoenix followed her gaze and then looked at her.

"You shouldn't have come here today," a man Phoenix recognized from squads as Magnus grumbled.

"My mom won this Tournament, and I'm here to win in her honor," Phoenix crossed her arms over her chest.

"Wait, you're not even in it for the prize?" Magnus asked. "How many other chances will you get to work in the castle for the King?"

"I'll take the money, but I don't want to work for that sack of shit of a King," Phoenix scowled.

That excuse of a King killed mom. Killed her for fighting in the guard while having children legally under her name. Killed her for that minor offense- even when executions weren't common.

"What do you even need the money for? You're too young to have kids under your name. Unless…" Magnus raised his eyebrow in challenge. No, he couldn't know, there was no way. He was just poking at her.

"Of course I don't," Phoenix enunciated each word.

Women working with kids under was their name was illegal, usually resulting in a fine and loss of job. Mom was the exception- always.

She was a woman who won the Tournament, so the councilmen showed no mercy. Officially, mom was killed for breaking the written laws. Unofficially, she had broken the unwritten law: women don't beat men. And they especially don't do it while simultaneously parenting.

"I don't understand girls. First, you think you can join a man's tournament and now you're so arrogant that you won't even take full advantage of the prize. It's called the Tournament of Crowns. You're supposed to work for the crown after winning. Just go home before your face gets smashed in," Magnus warned.

One, two, breathe in, yes, good, hyper. Angry.

"I'm going to enjoy beating you," Phoenix chuckled. She'd been training all her life to fight, to take mom's place, no, not like that, Phoenix would survive.

Magnus offered a half-smile. "Let's see you survive Sullivan first, bitch."

In the distance, the bell indicating the end of the next fight echoed in Phoenix's ears. Why didn't Sullivan come to the back room between fights?

Phoenix bit her lip and jumped up from her spot. Rolling her neck, two pops sounding from either side, she offered a parting glare at Magnus before heading toward the tunnel.

"Phoenix Viloria?" a voice called out from the end of the tunnel.

"Yes, that's me," she replied, walking up to the man. He was tall, wearing another purple uniform, with clean-cut hair and a wide smile that creeped her out. It was too friendly.

Once Phoenix was a mere foot away from him, he dragged his eyes from her head to toe. "My name is Felix and oh my, you're so skinny. Do you have any training experience?"

Her whole head tilted back with the force of her eye roll. Sure, perhaps Phoenix couldn't afford enough money for three meals a day, but she wasn't that skinny. "My mother has been training me to fight since before I can remember. I joined the guard when I was fifteen. I'm eighteen now, I know how to fight."

"So did the last guy Sullivan fought, and you know how that ended up."

Phoenix closed her eyes and saw the moment the man fell, only to be pinned by Sullivan and punched until loose teeth scattered around the ring. Her eyes peeled open, and she glanced down at herself.

Black training leathers with two straps crisscrossing her body ordained her, tight enough to stay put but not so tight they cut circulation. Her hair was weaved back with a braid, fingernails lined with dirt and stubbed short. These were mom's training leathers.

"I'm here to fight in my mother's honor, and when I win, I'm going back home to my siblings," she declared.

Felix let out a low whistle. "That does sound nice, but bets are against you, so just try and survive, don't worry about winning. Remember, your whole life doesn't amount to this moment. You have years ahead of you."

Except-

"And next up!" a booming voice came from the center of the fighting ring. "We have Sullivan's next competitor, Phoenix Viloria!"

Without offering Felix a proper goodbye, Phoenix stepped out from the tunnel and into the arena. Her hands flew up to shield the blaring sun from her eyes and she walked blindly towards the fighting ring. Once the sun proved nothing more than bright, she studied the crowd. Fellow soldiers and Highlanders surrounded her, rattling her with cheers for Sullivan.

Dirt kicked up as Phoenix walked, reminding her to stand tall.

Phoenix blinked and thought of everything that could go wrong. She was the only person in her family with a job- if she died now, they would have no one supporting them. Daisy would have to put the family under her name, repeating the cycle. Cole could maybe get a job but another loss would shatter the family.

Before she knew it, Phoenix was a step before the fighting ring. It was drawn in white chalk and encompassed a large circle of packed dirt. She froze at it, knowing this was her last chance to step down, to go back to her family and tell them that she tried. Her eyes dragged up until she was staring at Sullivan, whose hands wore blood with pride.

Phoenix realized why Sullivan never came backstage between matches- his sheer size stopped him from being in that small room. Where she was covered from neck to toe in leathers, this man wore nothing but a pair of small shorts, showing off his big belly and hairy legs.

One of them would win and advance and the other would lose and go home. Sullivan winked and smirked, a smile Phoenix didn't return. Instead, she took a large step into the ring, opposite where Sullivan was.

The bell's shine caught her attention. It looked gold with a rope beside it, which the referee would pull at the beginning and end of the match. The audience roared in anticipation, eager to see another bloody match. Her eyes found Sullivan, who warmed up by jogging in place and stretching his arms.

Phoenix followed suit and jumped on her toes. She glanced at the referee. At his feet, teeth lay forgotten. Phoenix inhaled a breath and shut her eyes. One, mom had won this Tournament, and Phoenix was personally trained by her to fight. She exhaled. Two, this was Sullivan's second fight, he was tired. Three-

Crack!

"Ugh!" she yelled, stumbling back, and throwing her hands up to defend her face. Shit! Her nose was broken, and Sullivan had gotten the first hit.

The crowd erupted, eagerly rooting for her male opponent. Phoenix had missed the ring of the bell, why was the crowd so damn loud? She hopped on her toes and, taking a deep breath to ready herself for the pain, set her nose with a pop! She jumped a little higher than necessary for a second, shaking off the first blow.

"Sullivan! Sullivan! Sullivan!"

Okay, warm-up was over. Toes dancing, the opponents moved around each other as blood trickled down to Phoenix's mouth. Sour. She cleared her head and focused on the task in front of her. Now.

She rushed forward. Sullivan held up his hands to block his face, and Phoenix threw up her leg and kicked him square in the chest. Tumbling back, his hands did little to hide his surprised face. She retreated a step and they stared each other down.

Her nerves melted into anger. Phoenix was mad at everyone for doubting her, mad that she had to fight to support her family, and pissed that Sullivan thought he could do whatever he pleased. Sweat beaded her forehead, pouring down her neck.

Without warning, Sullivan threw out a left hook that Phoenix dodged. She thrusted a few kicks with her left foot, which he casually blocked with his forearms. Without a second thought she threw out her right foot instead, and he tripped over his feet to block it but caught himself before falling over. They retreated a pace away from each other.

Phoenix took a breath in, feeling more tired than usual. She cursed herself for staying up so late, and an image of tucking Lucas into bed filled her head. She had to fight to keep her family safe. Her eyes snapped to Sullivan's.

Sullivan snarled and threw another punch, but this time, Phoenix was ready. Her arms throbbed as she blocked the blow.

Breath escaped her, gone forever.

But Sullivan wasn't done. He went for the right side, then the left, then the right again. Phoenix kept her head down, knees bent and blocked as best she could. She gritted her teeth against the pain as each punch came in, hammered against her skin. Hammered hard enough to make her skin throb and bones ache.

Block, block, dodge-

She caught Sullivan's left foot as it kicked, and she hurled her hand right into his face, letting go of his foot so he fell onto the ground below.

Phoenix got on top of him, giving him no chance of recovery. He was strong enough that he flipped himself over to crawl on his knees, and she threw as many punches as she could into the side of his face. When she withdrew for another jab, Sullivan used his brute strength to push her off his back and stand up again. In a flash, Phoenix was on her feet, and they were back to being face to face. He came up to her and swung at her face, and he wrapped his other arm around her neck to stop Phoenix from fighting back.

A flicker of excitement zipped up her body. That was his biggest mistake yet.

Using his body weight against him, Phoenix bent her knees, his body naturally draping over her back, and tossed him over her shoulder with the help of gravity. He fell with a great umph! She moved to get back on top of him, but he was ready. He stood before Phoenix got the chance to strike again. Regardless, Sullivan was tired, his swaying eyes and heavy pants gave it away, and he was stuck at the edge of the ring.

His hands dropped, and she knew. Her fists launched, and this time, they landed. Ignore the stinging knuckles, ignore the taste of sweat, don't stop-

She couldn't stop-

Sullivan's hands dropped for a second and Phoenix took his face into her hands and brought her knee up. There was a loud crunch! Then Phoenix did it again with her other knee.

She felt her knee soaking with Sullivan's blood as she shattered his nose.

Again, and again, her hits landed, the world nothing but a blur and instinct to fight. Once she felt his head limp in her hands, she forced him up and hurled one last punch square across his face. He fell onto the border of the chalk ring with a great crash. Dirt shot up around him and buried his body in light dust.

This time, Phoenix didn't need to go down with him. She stood with her hands raised for a good three seconds, waiting to see if Sullivan would get up, and upon seeing that he wouldn't, she dropped her hands, cracked her neck, and walked away to the sound of the bell dinging.

She could hear people behind her running up to help Sullivan. She didn't care to look at the crowd as they shouted their disapproval at her, nor did it bother her that no one came to her aid. Phoenix just walked out of the ring and through the tunnel backstage. The other contestants stared as she took her seat, sipped some water, and rolled her shoulders.

None of it mattered- she'd fight to win, regardless of whether or not the world approved.