Page 53 of Eternal Sacrifice
I would have to ensure Mor took time to herself after an exhausting day filled with others’ emotions.
I leaned over toward Jace, and Jace turned to do the same as if on cue.
There were plenty of times when the connection between us irritated the shit out of me, but at some point, I had grown fond of his presence. While we mostly disagreed about trivial matters, we wanted the same things at our core. Everything that had happened in our lives before Mor crashed her way into them no longer mattered. Our life had started anew the moment Jasper said yes.
Jace looked at me, patiently waiting for me to say something. But the words had already flown from my mind as I looked at the literal missing piece of myself, and a sense of awareness rolled through me.
I’m ready to put my past to bed.
The buzzer sounded, pulling my attention and leaving the air between us vacant of the words I wasn’t sure I was ready to say out loud. The points were tallied. The floor shifted and prepared for the next round of fights.
I reached forward, grabbed the banister, and pulled it toward me. The wood moved smoothly as Hell understood my intentions and allowed me to pull up a table for us. A spread of meats, cheeses, fruits, loaves of bread, and more appeared on the table, along with a drink for each of us.
“That was cool,” Jace said, settling back into his chair to take a sip from his cup.
The demons beneath us quickly noticed and started to will their own refreshments into existence while the next set prepared to fight.
“There’s no way,” Mor breathed, leaning forward. “Oh, he fucking didn’t.” She sat back laughing, and I turned my gaze back to the arena.
Springfield stood in the highest raised section, facing off against Harric, the Prince of Wrath.
Murmurs broke out amongst the crowd, most shocked to see the elusive Prince. Harric wasn’t in Hell often, preferring to travel to the other realms in search of something only known to him. He always looked the same; mortal features of a man in his thirties, covered from the neck down in black inked runes. His hair was as dark as mine, but he kept it tucked under a fitted hat. Today he was wearing a black button-up shirt, untucked from a pair of jeans in the most mundane way possible. His black boots had scuffs and worn patches from extensive time away from magic.
“Did you know he was entering?” Mor asked.
“No, I didn’t even know he was back.”
“What?”
Mor’s confused tone snapped my attention, and I noticed her face looked just as her tone suggested.
“Did you know Springfield was planning on entering as a fighter?” she clarified.
“No. But I’m more concerned that he’s facing off against Prince Harric. He’s been off the realm for decades.”
“Oh, fuck,” she breathed. Her gaze swung back to the fighters.
Amira announced the start of the match, the same as she had for the others.
Not a single mention of the return of a Prince.
The arena filled with an eerie silence as all eyes fell on Harric and Springfield. They stood facing one another. Springfield’s head was cast downward with his hand balled at his sides. His fingers twisted, and vines sprouted from the ground beneath him. It crept across the arena and started to wrap around Harric’s legs.
With a single gesture of Harric’s hand, he broke the vines and stepped forward. His eyes started to glow with an intense rage, and the air began to crackle with energy. A lightning bolt struck Springfield in the chest, causing him to stumble backward. His body curled in on itself as if he was trying to keep his insides from spilling out.
“He controls lightning like Zeb?” Mor asked.
“He controls energy,” I answered.
Harric took an advancing step. Springfield straightened, sending a barrage of thorns and vines toward Harric. Harric deftly dodged them and countered with a wave of pure force. It slammed into Springfield, sending him tumbling to the ground.
“There’s no way Springfield will win,” Mor said while her face scrunched in pain on Springfield’s behalf.
“I’m surprised he’s lasted this long,” Jasper said through half a laugh.
I look at the countdown timer, noticing only two minutes have passed. There was no way Springfield would be able to last all ten.
Springfield got to his feet, taking time to dust the sand from his clothes. Harric waited for him to finish before sending out another blast of energy. Springfield was prepared for the move and countered with a shield spell. It broke the moment Harric’s blast slammed into it. Springfield rushed forward instead of falling onto his ass. He charged Harric, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the sand. Vines twisted up from the cracks in the floorboard, pinning Harric to the ground. Springfield resorted to using his fists, relentlessly pounding them into Harric’s head.
