“We’ll meet back here in a few minutes,” Sarah said, turning and descending the long stone stairs, against the wave of people heading the opposite direction. Everyone was heading up, towards the hallways which led out of the arena, including Lyssa, who nodded and began to squeeze into the slowly ascending group.

Abel and Bernard had vanished without a trace, leaving the crowds quiet and turning her stomach sour. The voice had said that Abel was the victor, but what exactly did that mean? And where was he?

The laggard pace eventually brought her to the top of the stands and into the high-arched halls above. The tables of food had vanished, allowing the passerby space to breath and more room to walk.

Her eye caught a glimpse of a short figure in white and her heart fluttered, but when Lyssa turned there was no one of the sort.

Now my mind is playing tricks on me. She returned her gaze to the groups around her, remembering that she was searching for Abel, not a little girl. She brought her gaze over the shoulders of most, searching for a taller figure, the bobbing rhythm of a limp, or anything that might give him away. She carefully scanned the larger groups, thinking he’d likely be surrounded by others who wanted to get on his good side, or simply wanting to ask him questions.

Lyssa walked down a ramp, minding her location so she could return an convene with Sarah soon. She wasn’t certain what they would do once they found him. Part of her hoped that they would head back to their apartment, so that she knew that Sarah would be protected. Another part of her was praying they would never leave her side again, that no matter what trouble they faced, they could at least be together, just like Sarah had said.

She heard a ruckus ahead and made haste forward, following the curved hallway until she saw an assemblage of people which formed a blockade.

“Abel?” she asked under her breath, her pace slowing. She heard a grunt of pain and laughter. “Abel?” she called again with a firm voice, pushing her way into the cluster of bodies.

“Lyssa?” Bernard’s voice cried out, pained. “Lyssa, help me!”

She stood within the mass of people, still unable to see what was happening. Then those before her turned and moved away, giving her a clear path forward.

Bernard’s body was leaning against one of the walls, his face messy with blood. She tried to look at his other limbs, but her world shivered at the unnatural angles they were bent at and she was forced to turn away.

“Lyssa, help me,” he repeated, quieter now that he saw she was close. “I’m sorry for everything.”

Several men stood within the circle, and one of them swung a kick which landed against his chest with a revolting sound. Bernard hardly reacted.

She could have saved him. If she had showed up sooner, if his cries had echoed through the halls and she’d ran to him, there was a chance she may have found him and been able to get him away from his attackers. Even if he was selfish, even if he had tried to kill Abel, hearing his cries could have moved her to act.

But Lyssa was arriving late. His body seemed broken beyond repair and she wondered if his mind, too, had passed a certain point beyond recovery. His eyes looked towards her, but she no longer saw the man she once had.

One of the men smiled at her and gave a wave with his fingers. “You know this piece of shit?”

Her face went white. Another man stepped towards her, making a lewd gesture. “Lyssa, huh? Whew.”

“I’m sorry for everything,” Bernard rasped again. The same man as before bent down and punched him across the face, the sound of knuckle of bone bouncing off the stones and turning her stomach.

“Just walk away,” the first man said to her. “He’s dead. Walk away, Lyssa.”

Her gaze went to the floor before her. She couldn’t even speak.

“She’s a level four-” Bernard began, but another person cut him off.

“Sure, sure, just like you were a level four. You think we didn’t know you were fucking with us from the start, man? This girl ain’t a level four. But you said you had training, so we believed you. You think we wanted to lose to trash like you? A deal is a deal. You said you’d win, and you didn’t. This is your prize for second place.”

Seeing the man heading towards Bernard again, Lyssa turned in a heartbeat and fled. “Lyssa-” she heard the word escape Bernard’s mouth one last time before more blows interrupted him. Laughter followed her retreat, but she focused only on making it to Sarah. She paid no mind to the crowds, all thoughts of finding Abel leaving her mind.

Her feet carried her to the stands and, with how few people still remained, it didn’t take her long to see Sarah pacing around, looking in the pits and through the seats. The stone staircase flew beneath her feet and she stumbled on several, but always managed to catch herself before totally losing herself.

She embraced her friend, already feeling her eyes growing hot.

“Lyssa? What? What happened?”

“Bernard,” she managed, her chest tightening. She didn’t like the man. She never had. But no one deserved to die like that. Lyssa squeezed her friend close, recounting through a narrow throat the wall of people and the men inside of it delivering death.

“We need to leave,” Sarah said when she was finished speaking. She grabbed her by the arm and began up the staircases.

“Where are we going?” Lyssa asked.

“I don’t know,” she didn’t stop ascending. “But anywhere is better than here. We came with a group, so it’s possible that Abel is with them because he’s injured. It may be in his best interest to have his wounds tended to before he comes with us.”

“Where are we going?” Lyssa repeated.

“That man, Theodore. You said he was letting you stay at his house. Would he mind one more?”

Lyssa gave a shrug. It would be asking a lot, but it was hard imagining him denying Lyssa’s friend, at least for a short while. “It’s worth a try. I came through the East gate.”

“Alright,” Sarah patted her on the shoulder. “Come on. We’re heading out on the streets.”

Before they could take a single step, Abel appeared before them.