Page 27 of Obsidian and Frost
Because, with the infection that plagued me, my magic was fritzing, yet she’d amplified it.
Fuck,she was the key to a whole lot for me.
And she was right here up close.
I’d reported the strange occurrence to Kai and while he’d agreed to look into it with me, recognizing its viability to help me with my situation, he’d also delivered a warning on behalf of his love, Nyx Laryn.
Nyx was very close friends with Velra Nox, so close that he referred to her aslittle sis.I had a bit of a reputation, so I’d been warned to tread carefully, to keep in mind that Nyx would melt my balls if I upset his beloved friend.
Well, I was all for a challenge.
Just like the delectable Lazriel clearly was.
Something he was going to great pains to demonstrate currently.
And he was clearly in his element right now while doing that, battling hidden demons in the form of real opponents in Graverun.
It was my first time coming here, an arena carved into the bedrock of a subterranean area beneath the Academy, only accessible when given the correct magical password to enter through the enchantments hiding and protecting the space.
The atmosphere was intense but electric.
The arena was circular, a coliseum with tiered, concentric seating that rose steeply toward the vaulted stone ceiling.
Each tier was packed with spectators—very vocal spectators.
Massive stone archways supported the arena’s structure forming alcoves along the edge where others watched from the shadows. The seating was hard, black stone.
Flickering amber magical fire hung from iron settings above the fight circle.
The fight circle was marked by a glowing amber shielding spell. It kept the fighters within that space so combat didn’t spill out toward the unguarded seating and spectators. It also prevented the fighters from taking things too far—it read their vitals and would freeze them for several moments if said vitals took a dive, in order to prevent any fatalities.
Aside from that restraint, there were no further rules, the fighters free to unleash.
And there Lazriel was now, covered in blood, sweat, and scars.
So many scars.
There were many visible when he was fully clothed as it was, but down to just a pair of deep-green satin shorts now, more were in view. His chiseled torso was a canvas of claw marks and scars inflicted by a serrated blade. Old scars, though. Caused years ago. So none of them had come about from Graverun then.
I was curious to know what the story was behind them.
It wasn’t public knowledge—not to the students here, nor to the upper echelons of the supernatural world. I’d already asked around.
He’d come out tonight into the fight circle thrusting his fists in the air to roaring cheers from the excited crowd, wearing a forest-green satin robe emblazoned with bold, golden lettering with his moniker—Halfblood Hound.
I’d seen him take out his first opponent—a second-year werewolf who’d partially shifted immediately in a bid to instantly overpower him—with two blows.
His second opponent had been a vampire double Lazriel’s age who’d been sent here due to his bloodlust issues, and Lazriel’s own vampiric speed had utterly eclipsed his. He now had the guy’s blood dripping from his mouth—the ultimate insult to a vampire, being bitten by another. But the fool had earned that disrespect from Lazriel after he’d hurled somehalf-breedcomments at him, then sliced his face open with his talons—a nasty wound which had since healed.
I watched as a Dark Fae student stepped into the fight circle.
I frowned when Lazriel still didn’t step out to take a breather, or to even call it a night.
He still needed more? That was concerning. On so many levels.
The Dark Fae was clad in head-to-toe shimmering blue leather, his wild black hair falling down his back in waves.
Lazriel had only just assumed a fighting stance when the opponent fired a bolt of blue magic at him, ripping him right off his feet and onto his stomach. I grimaced as his face smashed into the stone floor.
