Page 59 of From the Mouths of Sirens

“I’m sorry,” Rook apologized. As much as it pained him to leave Eros crumpled in the sand, it had to be done. “I hope you’ll someday forgive me.”

Rook turned his attention back to the hydra and the rest of the tributes. The male Terradrin tribute, Adresin Vasalor, was now fighting side by side with Ramin, charging at one of the hydra heads. Beside them, Noora loosed volley after volley, only felling one of hydra's eyes. As one head lurched toward Ramin with snapping jaws, Adresin side stepped, narrowly missing the dragon’s foaming mouth. He raised his curved sword over his head with a cry, bringing it down as hard as he could. The blade sliced through the hydra’s neck, blood spraying across his white hair as he brought it down again and again. The hydra screeched in pain, the now-beheaded neck writhing and twisting in the sand. Ramin and Adresin retreated for a moment, watching as the neck recoiled back, dark blood soaking the sand. The crowd applauded wildly.

But the sickening crunch of bone cut through the applause. Rook watched with horror as the neck stump seemed to move and shift with fresh muscle and flesh, foaming with a strange liquid. Something began to grow out of the hydra’s shoulder, the rippling flesh warping and contorting into a new limb. Ramin and Adresin stood motionless as the new flesh emerged from the dragon, slithering out like a second tail. At the end of the new limb, a head slowly began to form, sharp teeth rising from the flesh like some hideous clay creation. Black scales jutted out, forming across the new neck like armor. Rook’s heart sank as two more heads replaced the one Adresin just chopped off.

“This is impossible,” he breathed in disbelief. They would never be able to defeat it.

“Rook,” a voice said from behind.

Rook’s heart fluttered at the sound of her voice. He slowly turned around, already knowing who he would see.

Saoirse.

“You have to get out of here,” he pleaded, taking in her familiar eyes. “It's not safe for you or Aurelia. Eros and Veila are going to kill every last tribute so that Aurandel is victorious.”

“And you’re not?” she asked coldly.

“No, of course not,” he replied confusedly. He took a step forward, reaching for her open hand. She pulled away, giving him a hostile stare.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, scanning her expression. Just the night before, they had been tangled in each other’s arms, their lips pressed together. She was staring at him as though he were a stranger, like she could hardly recognize him. She was staring at him like she had the first night they met, when he was simply an enemy she wanted to see dead.

“Saoirse, what’s wrong?” he asked again, this time more urgently. Behind them, clashing metal and cries of pain resounded as the other tributes fought for their lives against the hydra.

She stepped closer and cocked her head curiously at him, as if she were a predator assessing her prey. Something twisted in Rook’s gut, his instincts telling him that something was very wrong. She stood only an inch from him, looking up at his lips.

“Rook,” she said slowly, “surely you know that this is all a lie?” Rook could hardly comprehend what she was saying as her lips inched closer to his, her breath on his skin. “Did you really think I enjoyed your company? That I could ever reconcile with an Auran?” she asked with a cruel smile. “You’re more foolish than I’d thought if you truly fell for this naive princess act.”

Rook stared at her speechless, his face twisted in confusion. “But last night-”

"I made a mistake," Saoirse interjected, steppingtowards him and nearly closing the gap between them. "I let my guard down to an Auran prince trying to trick me so that I would be easy prey in the final game.”

Rook’s heart twisted at her words, sudden understanding dawning on him. He tried to take a step back, but she grabbed his wrist with an iron grip. He stared at her in confusion as he tried to pull away. Saoirse grinned, an eerie, otherworldly expression that sent a chill down his spine. He yanked his arm away from her again, but her hold was relentless.

“Thank you for falling for my trap so easily, Princeling,” Saoirse whispered, a grin still on her lips. “That great grandfather of yours would’ve been so disappointed in you.”

Abruptly, a deafening noise filled the sky. The explosion was so loud that it drowned out the cries of the onlookers and the roar of the hydra. The arena trembled as another explosion rocked the earth. Rook went still and the crowd suddenly grew quiet. Eyes wide, he turned to the sound. Smoke and debris drifted through the sky, emanating from the top of Mt. Thalia in a plume.

Emanating from the Citadel of Aurandel.

Yet another explosion reverberated from the mountain, sending ripples of force through the ground. The arena shuddered with the shockwaves. The crowd’s silence was instantly shatteredby shouts of fear and screams of terror. Several Aerial soldiers patrolling the arena suddenly sped into the sky, flying back toward the mountain with their weapons drawn. It was sheer madness as Revelorians fought their way back down the stairs, trampling each other to get out of the amphitheater. And through the chaos of it all, the cries of the hydra still echoed through the arena, followed quickly by swords ringing and tributes fighting for their lives.

Rook stared at the shattering world around him in a daze, unable to comprehend what was going on. He turned to Saoirse, who appeared completely unmoved by the explosions in Coarinth and the wails of the hydra.

“I-” he began.

But the words died in his throat. Pain suddenly splintered through him like a thousand shards of glass. He looked down at his abdomen. A knife was embedded in his stomach, blood seeping through his clothing at an alarming rate. Saoirse yanked the blade back, and waves of pain rippled through him. Rook clutched his ruptured stomach, warm blood pooling over his fingers and painting his tunic red.

Saoirse merely smiled.

29

SAOIRSE

“Saoirse.”

She drifted in endless darkness, enveloped by shadows that were as black as night.

“Saoirse,” a voice called again, reaching into the depths of shadow that clung to her skin, to her clothes, to her mind. Saoirse’s heart began to pound again, the breath rushing into her lungs once more. She fought to swim through the darkness, her limbs heavy and slow.

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