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And judging by his discreet glance, my students were at the heart of it.
Lowering my weapon, I extended a hand to help him up, my skin tingling as it met the soft yet resilient fur of his palm. “Why?” I whispered, ensuring that only he would hear.
He hesitated, then leaned in, his breath warm and earthy against my ear. “It’s not safe here,” he murmured, almost inaudibly, before pulling away.
A myriad of emotions flooded me.
Confusion.
Concern.
Anger.
And, above all, an overpowering urge to protect those under my charge.
My senses were on high alert now — the cacophony of the crowd’s reactions, the heat of the qeth’s breath against my ear, and the visual dance of shadows hinting at concealed truths.
I offered the qeth a nod of acknowledgment, a silent promise that our conversation was far from over.
Retrieving his weapon, I handed it back to him, our fingers brushing briefly in a moment of shared understanding.
Exiting the arena, I felt the weight of many eyes upon me, but none heavier than those of my students.
Their faces were a mix of jubilation and worry, but their questions would have to wait.
For now, there was a mystery to unravel, secrets buried deep within the very walls of this establishment.
If someone wanted to use my students as leverage against me, they were about to discover they had chosen the wrong warrior to cross.
With renewed determination, I strode toward the antechamber, my heart heavy yet resolute.
Something was going on here, and I was going to get to the bottom of it.
* * *
Storming into the antechamber, the whiff of heated metal and nervous sweat filled my nostrils.
My students huddled together, a group of young fighters all trying to find their way in this cruel world.
Their faces, usually filled with youthful determination, now carried a look of surprise and unease.
“Did you conspire with Sneik?!”
My voice echoed in the room, coming out more forcefully than I’d intended.
The slap of my boots against the floor and the rustle of their uniforms was loud in the tense silence.
Their collective gasps hung in the air, shock evident on their faces. “Master Ashale, how can you even suggest such a thing?” cried Ralen, his eyes glossy with disbelief.
His voice trembled with the weight of my accusation.
The chamber did nothing to temper my rising heat.
I could feel the flush on my face, the way my heart raced with adrenaline and worry. “Then explain my opponent. Explain why he gave up so easily.”
A heavy pause, punctuated only by the soft whirring of the chamber’s ventilation system, filled the room.
Then Jaxon, always the strategist, stepped forward.
