She had only ever really known two worlds. Through the bars of the cell in the underwater city of At-Lan-Tis - staring up through thickening layers of water towards the two dots of stars of the Twins that slipped through - and the frozen tundra that she lived in now after her father had broken them out from prison and ran. As she and the rodent Ratface passed by cell after cell, uncountable eyes glazed at her with anger, regret, and acquiescent, yearning for freedom. Were those her eyes 300 years ago?

Even more so than usual, she stood out. She was not dressed for the occasion, still in her formal gown. But the situation called for swift action. As she turned the corner into Langsley's corridor, Nadier's unmoving body on the ground jumped at her.

She found her steps flurrying as her heels clacked against the stone floor in loud echoes, Ratface scurrying quicker over than she did.

The dwarf transformed back, beads of sweat rolling down his face as he knelt next to Nadier. “Is he...?”

She removed his helmet disguise. Even in the dark of the corridor, she could see the blood splattered across his left face, his eye burnt from the attack Langsley delivered. The dark aeronium skin that gave dark elves their shade had significantly decreased, lightened to the point where most of his face was near the white of its natural skin tone, if there were even any aeronium over it at all. When she checked his neck for a pulse, she breathed a sigh of relief to find it beating. A blade had attempted to run through his neck at some point, leaving an exposed scar. Her fingers shifted to graze his lips. Rough, dry, with a small indent running down the side. Underneath the smooth aeronium, his skin was cracked of the kind that faced harsh winds and cold nights.

“We should leave,” the shadow of Arborior's said. “Just you and me. Your father's too strong to fight. But we can leave.”

That was his choice 200 years ago in that exact same corridor. Her father had offered his deal, and the dark elf had taken it. He was going to run. Perhaps it was best if she offered the same choice to Nadier.

She sighed and told Ratface, “Can you get him out of The Arena? Somewhere shaded?”

“Wha...?” Ratface begun. “We just givin' up? Maybe Ierba can help?”

“We're not going to be able to carry him back to his cell, and he can't fight against Langsley without his aeronium skin. For now, it's over.” The last word rolled out of her throat with a gagging feeling. “I'll arrange to get you two out as soon as possible.”

It was disappointing, but she had learnt to wait, and not to trust anyone of lesser will to help her with her goals. Knowing who Arbor had been, she was certain even his present self would not continue such a risky venture as to take down a leading figure of the underworld in his current condition. She still had Ierba, and perhaps she could work with the Clovers through him. It would be a longer, more complicated route, but there was still a possibility for victory there.

As she prepared to stand, Nadier grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“You're awake,” she softly exclaimed, her surprise and care slipping out. “Good, it'll be easier to get you out.”

Wordlessly, he stood up, grunting in pain the whole way until they were face-to-face. The blood from his wound seeped into his left eye, which red iris, now blind, swam in a pool of its own blood.

“We're not going anywhere,” Nadier heaved. “We're doing this together. Your father's too strong to fight alone. And someone needs to stop him.”

“You...” Trini began, her voice dragging out. “You remember?”

“No. Not all of it. Langsley called me a snake. I must've betrayed you. Langsley. Raven. Enthes. Aramas. I don't know what I did yet, but I'm not running again.”

His expression was suddenly unreadable. All she had known of the man before him seemingly fell apart.

“Oh,” he noted. “You look stunning.”

After a deep breath, Nadier painfully wiped the immediate blood off his face, smearing them across the wall with his palm. With his clean hand, he took the guard helmet back from Trini and rustily put it on and over his wound. His good eye looked to her, then he stepped around and walked away without another word.

Trini and Ratface crossed gazes. The latter sighed and shook his head, a seam of fatigue resting around the edges of his eyes. In glint sparking ice, he turned into his rat form and scurried down the corridor out, leaving Trini by her lonesome. Yet, she felt no sense of isolation. For the first time since she could remember, she had allies again, and ones that - for whatever reasons - did not seem to be running away.

She floated back to the party, her feet carrying her on heels of clouds. Something heavy had fallen off her shoulder, and a sense of confidence rose.

“You look glistening,” one of the guards noted.

“Thank you,” she answered as they opened the doors. “I feel refreshed myself.”

Despite wanting to enjoy her newfound energy, she prepared herself to face the schmoozing required of her. The back of her mind settling on a reminder to look forward to a possibly more relaxed sleep later. Her eyes scanned the room for the target she had left behind. The merchant, what's-his-name. He found him quickly, hard to miss for his size, in conversation with her father. Her gut knotted at the sight of him as he shook his head slightly in her direction as their eyes met, indicating that he had the situation handled. It was a welcomed deviation. Perhaps she could just enjoy the occasion for once, the sordid atmosphere of corruption aside.

A waiter came over with a tray of wine, and she took one off the edge. She drank little for the alcohol, but more for the taste. She sipped the beverage, letting the scent settle on her tongue as she watched the announcer take the stage.

Her stomach sank and the weight returned immediately.

In the hectic runabout from the events of the day, she had forgotten what her father, herself, and Langsley had done over the course of the last three days. It was the reason why dozens of soldiers and mercenaries were now either dead of lying injured out at The Arena entrance, being carried to medics and doctors of questionable oaths.

“Our esteemed guests!” The announcer exclaimed. “Our host, Lord At-Tro-Pos has brought you all together for this joyous occasion to showcase our upcoming main attraction! Please, turn your attention to the arena outside!”

The room approached the wall of reinforced glass which looked out to a darkened cavern. Above, a cut opened the ceiling, letting in the light of day from above. Slowly, the slice widened, snow drifting in pale light down as the metal floor shifted apart. A large cage the volume of a house began to lower down from above - hanging from chains sized to anchors - and the audience gasped and awed.

“That's right, everybody! We have managed to find a beast of magnificence and ferocity not seen in decades! Thought to be extinct, we have scoured the world to find this singular creature, sacrificing a small army for its capture, and all solely for your entertainment!”

Within steel bars of the cage sat a creature larger than even the sasquatch. Its scales shimmering purple and glinting sharp violet. With a body the shape of an over-sized salamander but the head of a drakin, its wings were rolled square to its sides like the turbine of a blimp mounted to the back of ship cannons. Its tail finned out with sharp nails of bones sticking, ready to shred anything of any one reckless enough to near it.

The announcer's voice reached a crescendo. “We present to you, one of the last of its kind, a THUNSTROM... DRAGON!”

With a crash loud enough to be heard even through the thick glass, the cage landed on the ground and broke opened, its bars falling to its side. Above, workers scrambled to close the retractable roofs as the dragon slowly whirled from its drug induced slumber. It looked around, confused for a moment, before unfurling its wings which stretched 50 meters cross to cross. With a roaring breath, it spewed sparking trees of lightning-fire around itself. Then, it flapped its wings over the hot air current, lifting itself off the ground slowly.

Another breath.

Another flap.

It gained height and acceleration as it repeated the process. The skylight was almost fully closed. Then, with a wide raised wing, it flapped down hard and burst skyward, faster than its size would seem to allow. But it slammed head first into the steel that had just fully closed it in. As it fell, it looked for a moment it might crash into the ground. But it opened its wings mid fall, catching the heat, and gliding into the centre of the fire. The dragon roared mightily in frustration, lightning and flames spewing from its unclenched jaws.

“In fifteen days, we will debut the dragon to face off against our star gladiators, Ierba the Omniknight, and Nadier the Wanderer! Everyone! Place! Your! BETS!”