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Naia’s heels sank into the sand, and she peered around at the wide, open space around her. Empty, tranquil. There were no craters in the ground, vibrations growling beneath her feet, the shocking sounds of blunt chaos unfurling around her, the same as all the times she’d watched from above.

The next hour would be an arduous endeavor for her as she tried to summon a nonexistent power. Naia was in her nineteenth year and nothing had changed. As the years transcended, her teachers fluctuated like the seasons. Last week it had been a middle god of hunting. At least he had taught her how to punch.

She was curious to learn which type of deity her Mira had summoned this time.

To Naia’s surprise, two figures stepped out into the arena, both hooded in dark robes.

Naia’s pulse jumped. She braced her legs and scoped her surroundings.

The shimmer of Mira’s pendant caught her eye. She sat in the highest box of the grounds alongside Naia’s father.

Mira never oversaw her training. Why now?

Naia faced the two strangers. They stood without movement.

“I take it you two are my mentors for the day?” Naia addressed them.

“We are mages,” the man on the right said in a gruff voice. “You are to defeat us.”

The breath died in Naia’s lungs.

Mages did not live in Kaimana. They were from the Mortal Land. Mira must’ve persuaded them with an offer they could not resist. Gold perhaps?

Keep your head down.

“First one down wins,” the mage on the left spoke. She was a woman.

Without warning, the man raised his arm and a powerful force smashed into Naia’s chest.

She flew back and her skull collided with the sand. Agony pulsed through her body, liquifying her organs, boiling her blood. Her limbs tensed from the currents of the mage’s power. She writhed and cried out.

Mira will think even less of you because of this.

Naia clenched her spasming muscles to gain control of herself. Her teeth clattered as her body attempted to heal itself of whatever internal damage the mage’s magic had inflicted.

Long, mortifying seconds passed.

The intense echoes of agony gradually dimmed, but she could not get a hold of her trembling limbs.

Sorcery.

She recalled past conversations she’d overheard from her aunts and uncles and how they despised mages. Though it was not animosity Naia heard in their voices, but fear. Now, Naia understood why.

Naia curled in on herself, her forehead digging into the sand. Granules worked their way through her lashes and into her eyes as she blinked through her burning tears.

Footfalls shuffled towards her.

Mira already perceives you as insignificant.

Naia sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth and threw her hands over her head, slamming her eyes shut.

Admit defeat and this will be over.

Those who fought with pride would not come at a weakling such as herself.

Naia’s hunkered body shook against the earth’s floor, dreadfully awaiting the next wave of pain.

A pain that did not come.