Storm here, new chapter is out, and there are two more to go on my blog before book 1 finishes. I'm slowly sorting out my book and hopefully I have it published before the start of September, so if you want to read an edited version of the novel then you can spend a couple of bucks and buy it.

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“The devourer’s a golden child? That's impossible though. The clans would clamp down on them immediately if they knew who was causing these issues”. Cleo was shocked. The iron grip of the clans was stifling, even to an effective exile like herself was still kept on an uncomfortably short leash. It seemed unbelievable to her that someone could avoid it, let alone commit the atrocities that Rose said had occurred.

“You think I don't know that? It's the only thing that makes sense though. They followed me up the floors for who knows how long. They have to be one of us”. Rose picked up the teacup and drank it in one go. It was easy to tell she was trying to be strong, but in Cleo’s eyes she seemed more like she was made of fine bone china. “There are rumours... rumours of children showing up with our level of expertise, but with names and auras that the nine clans have never heard of”.

“Do you think they could be from the four beast clans?” Winoa asked. The nine book clans and four beast clans were considered the peak powers by most normal people, but the four beast clans were looked down on. They had to marry out, or simply leave their birth clan to gain any sort of real power. They had strong physiques, but without an intellectual path, that meant nothing.

“The thought passed my mind, but the devourer was called a demon in human flesh. He had to be... he has to be one of us right? There were rumours of powerful children showing up in the neutral zone, but I don’t know how true they are. Most of us are in our clan territories, waiting for a chance to get to the eleventh floor”.

“Look, Rose. We will try and work out who the devourer is. There must be a short list of people, or maybe just a place we could look to see promising young challengers that we could check out,” Winoa said, taking control of the situation. Someone had to, and Cleo knew that without a doubt she could not. She had decided, after dealing with what she now knew as the devourer’s leftovers, that her role in life would be one of uncomfortable decisions and terrible actions. She would do things that other people balked at, the things that had to be done by were simply too unsettling to the conscience of a normal person. She chose her path, but she had to be led because of it. She would not shy away from things others could not look at, but she also could not stand in the limelight, lest her actions were revealed. She would become a monster, but she did not want to be called a monster.

“There's a place you can go, but I don't know if you'll find anything there,” Rose said, “the Empty Throne school has a ring in the area, one that most of the adults and children in Panwood lane use for training. They say there are a few people around our age who are insanely gifted”. She sat down on her pallet bed, wrapping the blanket round her body again.

She looks so pathetic... Cleo thought, noticing how gaunt and pale the girl in front of her was. She had obviously been hiding for a long time. “We will be as back as soon a we can, and Rose, please eat something. You look really thin”. Rose gave a weak smile in response before the two girls left the house.

As Winoa and Cleo stepped outside, neither could help but squint as the sun was so bright in comparison to the gloom of Rose's room. Cleo sighed in appreciation. There was something truly healing about the light, it just made her feel better after such a depressing discovery. They both moved away from their new living quarters with haste, if they were going to live there, they knew they had to make Rose feel better. The next few years would be awful if they had to deal with a girl constantly jumping at shadows, so both girls agreed to do whatever they needed to do to in order to clear Rose's worries.

Their short walk to the arena was surprisingly pleasant, with the thin wisps of woodsmoke that permeated the area and scenting their path, and the soft, warm sunlight flowing over them, they could not help but relax. Gradually, the wood and thatch buildings came to a halt, and in their place stood a monolithic stone wall. The ten metre high boundary continued on until it eventually shifted into ornate housing for a massive wooden door. The left door was ajar, and a sign was hanging from it at head height.

“Empty Throne school of combat open day, please come in,” Winoa read out loud, pausing as they got closer enough to read the smaller text, “note: do not walk off the path to the arena. You may be attacked by constructs. Well, I guess we follow the path then, huh?”

“Seems that way,” Cleo replied.

They walked through the open door and followed the path towards the arena. There was an odd sense of peace that washed over the two girls as they walked past the perfectly sculpted stone gardens, the beautiful metal statues, and the symmetrically planted trees that lined the straight path towards the large building that hopefully contained their target. Each soft crunch of the gravel beneath their feet echoed around them, and was the only sound for miles around.

Finally they arrived at the tiered tower that held the combat area of the school. The steel grey bricks seemed to draw the eye towards the tower, no matter where you looked. If it was in eyeshot then eventually you would focus on the tower more than anything else; it truly dominated the landscape. Opening the door and stepping inside the tower, the two girls were confronted with a sound that was completely opposed to the tranquility of the outside. A massive roar overtook them as the crowd they were confronted with went wild.

In the arena, two rather bedraggled men stood at arms length from each other. They were circling each other, looking for openings. It was obvious from the welts on the body of one of the fighters that they had just had an intense, but one sided engagement, and the fight was coming to a close. Some of the crowd were cheering, some were booing, but either way they were whipped into a frenzy, and the men in the arena seemed to be feeding off it.

The weakened man punched out with his less injured right hand, hooking his fist towards the healthier man’s gut. In response the healthy man stepped inside the hook and swung his elbow towards the head of his opponent. The weakened man seemed to slip as the elbow swung towards his head. He fell on his back and rolled into his palms and shoulders. Wincing he coiled like a spring and kicked towards the head of the healthy man.

The healthy man stopped in surprise as his opponent disappeared from his field of view, unfortunately this sealed his fate. The weakened man gritted his teeth as his kick went wide, but he did not worry; both his heels slammed into his opponent's collar bones. As his kick landed, he pushed off the ground and rolled back onto his feet to face the healthier man.

When the kick connected, there was a pair of sharp cracks as the two thin bones both shattered. The healthy man went white and his arms both feel to his sides. He gasped in pain and fell to his knees, then the referee of the fight called the end of the match. There was silence for a moment before a large swathe of the crowd went wild. Victories from the jaws of defeat were not uncommon, but they were always spectacular, and the crowd who had flocked to watch were reveling in it.

Various people stood up from the crowd and approached a young boy near the side of the ring. He was obviously important as he was flanked by two powerful looking fighters in some sort of grey uniform, and the way the crowd that approached him were acting, it was like they worshiped him. Cleo thought for a moment before correcting herself; they were not worshiping him, they were showing adoration for what he was giving them.

Each person was giving the boy a piece of paper with a word and a number on it. The boy looked at the paper, turned round and pulled a bag out of a small box behind him and handed it in exchange for the paper. Some would give the bag back and point to the stone board behind the boy. There were names and numbers written over the board, but the one they were all pointing to was “Law vs Geoffrey”. It seemed like it was the next match, so Winoa motioned to Cleo to sit down. They would have to wait until the end of the event to actually be able to talk to anyone, so they thought that they might as well enjoy the spectacle while they waited.