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The intake hall smelled like bleach and old blood. I kept my hands in my pockets and my eyes down. Nox pressed flat against my ribs, cold enough to burn.
"Next."
I stepped up to the desk. The woman behind it didn't look at me. Just slid a tablet across. "Thumb here. Left eye to the scanner. Don't blink."
I did what she said. The screen lit green. She waved me through.
The corridor past intake was narrow and white. Cameras in every corner. I counted six before I stopped counting. Nox stayed still, but I could feel it pulling inward, folding tight under my skin like it was trying to disappear.
*Don't move,* I thought. *Don't do anything.*
It didn't answer. Not out loud. But my shadow on the floor rippled once, then went flat.
Bad sign.
The changing room was packed. Twenty, maybe thirty girls. Some older than me, some younger. All of them had that same look—hungry and scared and trying not to show it. A few were talking in low voices. Most just sat on the benches and stared at the walls.
I found an empty corner and pulled my jacket tighter. A screen on the far wall cycled through headshots and stats. Names I didn't know. Familiars I'd only seen in streams. One girl had a bone-white serpent coiled around her shoulders. Another had something that looked like a mantis made of glass.
I didn't see Sloane Rook yet.
A door on the left opened. A man in a black jumpsuit stepped through. Clipboard in one hand, scanner in the other. "Line up. Familiar inspection. If your bond's not registered, you're out."
My stomach dropped.
I stayed in the corner. Let the others go first. Watched the guy run the scanner over each girl's chest, wrist, throat—wherever the bond mark sat. The device beeped green every time. He made a note. Moved on.
Nox shifted under my shirt. Not much. Just enough that I felt it.
*Stay down,* I thought. *Please.*
The line got shorter. Five girls left. Then three.
Then me.
"You. Step up."
I walked over. Tried to keep my face blank. He didn't look impressed. Just lifted the scanner and pointed it at my chest.
"Bond mark?"
"Left side. Under the collarbone."
He moved the scanner over. I held my breath.
The device made a sound. Not a beep. A low, staticky hum.
He frowned. "Again."
He ran it over a second time. Same sound. He looked at me. "What kind of familiar?"
"Shadow."
"Shadow's not a class."
"It's what I've got."
He stared at me for a long moment. Then he made a mark on his clipboard and waved me off. "Move. Next."
I walked back to my corner before my hands could shake.
That was too close.
The screen on the wall changed. New heading: *BRACKET ASSIGNMENT — ROUND ONE.* Names started populating. Left column, right column. Little headshots next to each one.
I scanned for my name. Found it three rows down.
*Mara Voss.*
I looked at the name across from mine.
My throat closed.
*Sloane Rook.*
No.
I read it again. Same result.
I was fighting Sloane Rook in the first round. The girl with the blade familiar and the perfect combat scores. The girl who'd won every underground bracket she'd ever entered. The girl whose family *owned* half the sponsors on this show.
I was dead.
"Fighters, move to the staging corridor. Five minutes to air."
Everyone stood. I followed because I didn't know what else to do. We filed out through another door, into a hallway lined with numbered stalls. Each one had a name on a little plaque. I found mine halfway down. Stepped inside.
The stall was tiny. Concrete walls, one bench, one mirror. A screen embedded in the left wall showed a countdown. Four minutes, eighteen seconds.
I sat down. Put my head in my hands.
Nox unfurled just a little. Enough that I saw black mist curl around my wrists.
"Not here," I whispered. "They'll see you."
The mist pulled back. But I could still feel it. Restless. Wary.
I looked at the mirror. My face looked thin. Pale. The bond mark on my collarbone was barely visible under my shirt, but I could feel it burning.
*You can do this,* I told myself. *You just have to survive one match.*
The lights went out.
I shot to my feet. The stall went pitch black. The countdown screen was gone. The hum of the overhead lights cut off. I couldn't see my own hands.
"Power surge," someone shouted from down the hall. "Stay in your stalls."
I pressed my back against the wall. Nox slid out, fast and instinctive. I felt it spread across the floor, up the walls, tasting the air.
*Not now,* I thought. *Not here.*
Footsteps. Close. I froze.
A voice. Low. Calm.
"Don't move."
I knew that voice.
Sloane Rook stepped into my stall. I couldn't see her face, but I saw the shape of her. Tall. Poised. She moved like the dark didn't bother her at all.
"They're checking the grid," she said. "Cameras are down."
"So?"
"So your familiar's not registered. Which means the second those cameras come back on, someone's going to notice."
My chest tightened. "How do you—"
"I pay attention." She took another step closer. I heard something else moving behind her. Her familiar. I couldn't see it, but I felt it—sharp and cold and watching. "Your shadow's banned tech. Isn't it?"
I didn't answer.
"It's fine," she said. "I'm not going to tell them."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't care what you're bonded to." She stopped right in front of me. Close enough that I could hear her breathing. "But the drones will scan everything when the lights come back. And if you've got something illegal, they'll pull you before you even step into the cage."
I swallowed. "What do you want?"
"Nothing. Just keep your familiar tight. Don't let it flare. Not until we're in the ring."
"You want me to fight you."
"I want a real match. Not a disqualification." She tilted her head. "You signed up for this. So fight."
I heard the hum of the grid coming back online. The lights flickered once. Twice.
Sloane's hand moved fast. She pressed something small and cold into my palm.
"Suppressant patch," she said. "Sticks to the bond mark. Fifteen-minute window. Use it smart."
The lights snapped back on.
I blinked. She was already gone.
I looked down. The patch was matte black, adhesive on one side. I peeled my shirt back and pressed it over the mark on my collarbone. The burning sensation dulled. Nox pulled inward without me asking.
The countdown screen rebooted. One minute, forty seconds.
I shoved the patch wrapper into my pocket and stepped out of the stall. The corridor was full again. Girls adjusting their gear, checking their marks, whispering to their familiars.
I walked toward the staging gate. My name flashed on the screen above it.
*MARA VOSS VS. SLOANE ROOK — ROUND ONE — LIVE IN 60 SECONDS.*
The gate opened. I stepped through.
The arena was bigger than I thought. Fifty feet across, octagonal, with walls that glowed white under the lights. Cameras floated overhead. Thousands of them. Tiny black eyes tracking every movement.
The crowd noise was piped in through speakers. Cheering. Chanting. I couldn't tell if it was real or recorded.
Sloane was already standing on the far side of the cage. Her familiar hovered beside her—a sleek, silver blade with edges that shimmered like water. She looked calm. Ready.
She met my eyes across the ring.
And smiled.
The announcer's voice boomed overhead. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Wraith Circuit. Round one begins now."
The lights turned red.
Sloane moved first.