THE BELLY OF THE BEAST

Valkhara

The beast roared again as I ran straight toward it.

Most people scream.

Most people dodge.

Most people die.

I wasn’t most people.

Its claws scraped against the black stone as it charged me, its gait uneven but fast, too fast for something that size. Bone-plated legs. A warped jaw. Spines down its back that clattered like blades when it moved. Its breath reeked of rot and old kills, and its eyes locked onto mine with pure, animal hunger.

Good.

Let it hunger.

Let it think I’m soft meat and thinner blood.

Let it think it has a chance.

I ducked low as it swung, claws cutting through air where my head had been. The wind of it slapped my hair back. My boots hit the stone and slid as I pivoted, flipping the left dagger into a reverse grip. My blade kissed the underside of its wrist and dragged deep.

It screamed.

So did the crowd.

Blood sprayed. Thick. Black. I rolled before it could come down on me again, tucking into the shadows of its underbelly. A safe zone. Temporary.

It kicked.

The impact hit my ribs and threw me across the sand, my body slamming into one of the obsidian columns that marked the arena perimeter. Pain burst through my side. A crack—maybe bone. Maybe not. I’d find out later.

I spit blood and stood anyway.

The beast charged again.

Faster this time. Angrier.

My pulse pounded in my ears, loud and steady, but I didn’t feel fear. I felt heat. Not panic—power. That same low ripple that always rose when I got too close to death. Like something inside me was watching… waiting. The buried spark of a bloodline that wasn’t supposed to exist anymore.

I raised one blade. My fingers were slick with sweat and blood. My shoulder burned. I couldn’t remember when I got hit, only that I was still standing.

The creature launched forward.

I dropped to one knee and drove both blades up with everything I had.

The first pierced the base of its throat.

The second slid between its ribs and twisted.

The beast let out a wet, garbled sound—half-scream, half-snarl—and collapsed.

Its weight crashed down inches from me, black blood steaming in the cold air, soaking the sand around my knees. My chest heaved. My vision blurred at the edges. My hands were shaking now—not from fear, but from the sudden release of everything I had just held in.

I stood.

Slow. Deliberate.

Blood coated my arms. My neck. My lips.

Some of it was mine.

Most of it wasn’t.

The crowd had gone silent.

Up in the noble balconies, dozens of vampires stared down at me—some slack-jawed, some wide-eyed, others with lips parted and fangs exposed. A few looked furious. Like they couldn’t decide whether to kill me now or fuck me against the wall.

Let them wonder.

“Is that the Emberborn?” someone whispered.

“That shouldn’t be possible…”

“She just killed that thing without magic—”

“No power signature at all. That was pure combat.”

The Blood Priest was still clutching his burned hand from the altar, his face pale and lips pressed tight. He didn’t speak again. Smart.

The arena hissed as the sand beneath my boots started to smoke. I didn’t notice until the heat radiating from my body made the blood at my feet bubble.

Not boil.

Not burn.

Bubble.

I looked down at the body of the beast.

Its eyes were still open, its mouth frozen mid-snarl.

I bent down, wiped my blade across its chest, and stood again—face blank, body humming, a trail of steam rising behind me.

“Is that her mark?” someone said quietly.

“What mark?”

“The mating kind.”

I froze.

Only for a breath. A blink. A pulse of something across my skin like an invisible tether stretching. Reaching.

No.

I swallowed hard and rolled my shoulders. The bond mark wasn’t active. I didn’t feel anything. Not really. Just a strange tug in my spine. A flicker behind my ribs.

It didn’t mean anything.

I had just killed a monster in front of an entire bloodthirsty court. My body was on fire. My blood was awake. It wasn’t a bond—it was power.

That was the only thing I needed.

The only thing I trusted.

The Blood Priest opened his mouth again to speak, but before he could, the entire arena trembled. Just once. A sharp pulse that sent sand skittering and cracks spidering from where the beast’s blood met the ancient runes.

Everyone felt it.

Far away, behind one of the gates, someone groaned. Not in pain. In need. Like something inside them had just awakened.

I didn’t turn. I didn’t acknowledge it.

If that was one of them?

If some rival heir felt the pull of a bond?

Let them.

Let them come to the arena and try to take me.

Let them bleed beside me and beg for mercy I’d never give.

I wasn’t here to be claimed.

I wasn’t here to be loved.

I was here to win.

The Trials had just begun.

And I had already taken my first kill.