The roar of the Iron Pit still thundered in Alex's ears even after he shoved through the fighters' tunnel curtain into the relative quiet of the back corridors. The sound chased him, muffled now but relentless, like a living thing clawing at his spine. His Flamefist Gauntlet glowed faintly crimson, heat radiating off the ruby in angry pulses that matched the hammering of his heart. Kaelith's blood smeared his forearms and chest from where he had caught her when she collapsed.
She lay limp in his arms, princess-carried against his chest, head lolling on his shoulder. Her breathing came shallow and ragged, each inhale a wet, pained whistle through cracked ribs and bruised throat. Blood matted her muzzle and dripped in slow, sticky trails down her neck, soaking into the torn wyvern leather. One arm hung useless, shoulder dislocated from the Hooded One's brutal lock; the other clutched weakly at his tunic, claws pricking skin through fabric. Her tail dragged behind them, lifeless, black tip scraping the stone floor.
Alex's jaw locked so tight his teeth ached. Every step sent a fresh surge of rage through him, hot, black, choking. The Flamefist flickered brighter with each heartbeat; tiny tongues of fire licked up his wrist, scorching leather bracers but not burning skin. He didn't care. He wanted to burn the entire Pit down, starting with the hooded bastard who had dared touch what was his.
Mara stumbled behind him, staff clattering against stone, face streaked with tears she hadn't bothered to wipe away. Her manic smile had shattered, replaced by something raw, fractured, and terrified. She kept reaching out, fingers brushing Kaelith's dangling arm, then pulling back as if afraid she would hurt her more.
"She's breathing, right?" Mara's voice cracked, high and trembling. "She's breathing. She has to be breathing. Hero, tell me she's—"
"She's breathing," Alex said, voice flat and lethal. "She's alive. That's all that matters right now."
He kicked open the door to the private recovery room the Pit reserved for high-value fighters: small, stone-walled, lit by a single hanging lantern. A wide cot took up most of the space; a table beside it held basic supplies—clean bandages, salve jars, a clay jug of water, a few vials of murky green healing draught. No healer on duty. Fighters were expected to patch themselves or pay for one.
Alex carried Kaelith to the cot and laid her down as gently as rage would allow. She whimpered, low and broken, when her back touched the thin mattress. Her eyes fluttered open, amber dulled with pain, then focused on him.
"M-master…" Her voice was barely a rasp, throat swollen from the choke.
"Shh." He knelt beside her, hands shaking as he brushed blood-matted fur from her face. "Don't talk. Just breathe."
Mara dropped to her knees on the other side, staff clattering to the floor. Tears streamed freely now, silent and relentless. She reached out, fingers trembling, traced the edge of Kaelith's cracked collarbone, then jerked back as if burned.
"I should have been down there," she whispered, voice splintering. "I should have seen it coming. I should have—"
"Stop." Alex's voice cracked like a whip, sharp enough to make Mara flinch. "This isn't on you."
Mara's hands flew to her mouth, muffling a sob that ripped out anyway. "She's hurt. She's hurt so bad. Look at her, look at what that thing did to her. She was winning and then… and then…"
She broke, shoulders shaking, sobs tearing free in ugly, wrenching bursts. She curled forward, forehead pressing to the edge of the cot, fingers clutching Kaelith's limp hand like a lifeline.
Kaelith tried to lift her head, whimpered, then let it fall back. Her free hand, claws retracted, reached weakly toward Mara.
"M-Mara…" she rasped. "Not… your fault…"
Mara's sobs hitched, turned into a keening sound. "I'm supposed to protect you. I promised I'd always be there—"
Alex moved fast and controlled. He grabbed the clay jug and one of the green vials, poured water into a shallow bowl, dipped a clean cloth, and began wiping blood from Kaelith's muzzle with careful strokes. His hands steadied now, rage banked into something cold and focused.
"Hold her hand," he told Mara, voice low and commanding. "Talk to her. Keep her awake."
Mara sniffled, nodded, threaded her fingers through Kaelith's. "I'm here, pretty bitch. I'm right here. You're safe now."
Kaelith's eyes fluttered, focused on Mara, then on Alex. A weak, bloody smile tugged at her lips.
"Master… won't let… anyone touch… what's his…"
Alex's jaw clenched. He poured salve onto the cloth, thick and pungent with herbs and mint, and began working it into the worst of her cuts. She hissed, tail twitching, but didn't pull away.
"No," he said, voice dangerously quiet. "No one touches what's mine. Not without dying for it."
He moved to her shoulder, dislocated, swollen, purple-black. He gripped her wrist gently, then her elbow, felt the joint pop when he rotated it back into place. Kaelith screamed, short and hoarse, back arching off the cot. Mara sobbed harder, clutching her hand tighter.
"Almost done," Alex murmured, voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "Breathe through it, my heat-drunk bitch. You're strong. And you will not break."
Kaelith's breathing steadied, shallow and pained but steady. Her eyes never left his face.
Alex uncorked the green vial, healing draught, tipped it carefully to her lips. She swallowed, grimacing at the bitter taste, then relaxed as the magic took hold. Color crept back into her muzzle; ribs no longer shifted grotesquely with every breath. The bleeding slowed, clots forming, cuts knitting into angry red lines.
He set the vial aside, wiped his hands, then leaned down and kissed her forehead, soft and lingering.
"You did good," he whispered. "You fought like a beast. You didn't yield until you had no choice. I'm proud of you."
Kaelith's tail curled weakly around his wrist, eyes shining.
Mara's sobs had quieted, turned into shaky, hiccuping breaths. She pressed her forehead to Kaelith's shoulder, still clutching her hand.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice raw. "I'm so sorry, Kaelith. I should have—"
Kaelith's free hand lifted, slow and trembling, cupped Mara's cheek.
"Not… your fault," she rasped. "Hooded… thing… cheated. Not… you."
Mara's tears fell faster, splashing onto Kaelith's fur.
Alex stood slowly, rage simmering beneath iron control. He looked down at Kaelith, then at Mara, then at the tunnel entrance.
"That hooded fucker," he said, voice flat and lethal. "Once I find out who he is, I will burn him alive. Slow."
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