The air inside the Colosseum thickened with every scream, every roar of flame, every coin tossed in a frenzy of bloodlust. Alec stood once more behind the gate, sweat dampening the edge of his blindfold. Smoke curled from the stone just beyond, the remnants of a previous match lingering like ghosts refusing to depart.
He rolled his shoulder, still sore from the sandbender's strikes. The previous fight had taught him much. But this one, he could tell, would teach him something else entirely.
The announcer's voice cracked through the air again. "Ladies and lords of the flame! Prepare yourselves! In this round, the Blind Ember returns!"
There were cheers now. Louder than before. He wasn't anonymous anymore.
The gate groaned open.
Across the ring stood his next opponent. A tall man, shirtless save for iron cuffs linking his wrists with searing-hot chains. Fire tattoos wound across his back, visible even in the torchlight. A former soldier, clearly. And no stranger to killing.
The man sneered when he saw Alec. "They let children in now?"
Alec didn't answer. He stepped forward calmly, feet sliding across the ash-stained tiles.
"You fake it well, blind boy," the man continued, voice oily. "But fire speaks truth. It don't care if you're blind, deaf, or dead."
Then the chainfire bender snapped his wrists forward.
Flames roared.
Alec moved just in time. The initial burst tore a groove in the stone where he had been standing. He rolled to the side, twisting his body low, fan flicking open.
The crowd roared.
The chainfire bender advanced, sweeping the burning chains like whips. They cracked through the air, molten orange, sparks flying.
Alec barely blocked the first with the flat of his fan, the heat singing the cloth at its edge. The second chain lashed across his left shoulder, scorching through tunic and skin alike.
Pain flared.
He bit back a cry, staggering. Blood hissed where it hit the tiles.
The bender grinned, advancing. "Burns, doesn't it? Let it remind you who you're facing."
Alec stumbled again, hand gripping his side. But his mind? Still calculating.
He let himself fall to one knee.
The firebender lunged forward, flame wreathing his fists.
Now.
Alec struck the tile beneath him with his palm, sending a subtle thermal pulse that cooled the air just around the firebender's fists. The flame faltered, arcs flickering unstable.
The man blinked. "What the—?"
Alec lunged upward, fan closed tight. A low, sweeping Blinding Lash tore under the man's guard, slamming into his leg. He shouted, thrown backward.
No time to waste.
Alec pivoted, heating the stone beneath his opponent's boots. A sharp crack echoed as the rock fractured under rapid expansion. The firebender lost footing.
Alec closed the distance, fan flashing upward.
But he didn't strike to kill.
He angled the Lash to graze the man's ribs, enough to knock the wind from him. The soldier collapsed with a grunt, coughing, flames guttering out.
Silence.
Then the crowd exploded.
"Blind Ember! Blind Ember!"
Alec turned slowly, shoulder still bleeding, ribs burning with every breath. He raised the fan briefly, then lowered it and walked out as smoke curled behind him.
No flair. No arrogance.
Just victory.
Back in the dim corridor outside the ring, Alec sat hunched on a bench, shirt half-peeled from his burned shoulder. The wound was angry and red, blisters already forming. His fingers trembled slightly as he dabbed at it with wet cloth.
Every inch of him ached. Even his breath felt heavy.
"You're doing it wrong," came a quiet voice.
Alec didn't flinch. He knew the steps behind him.
Zuko knelt, wordless, and pulled something from within his cloak. A small tin of salve. He opened it, and the sharp herbal scent cut through the metallic air.
"This helped me," Zuko said. "It won't heal everything, but it numbs the worst of it."
Alec allowed him to apply it without comment. The burn hissed beneath the touch, but soon the pain dulled.
Zuko wrapped a thin cloth over it and tied it cleanly.
"You could've killed him," Zuko said.
"I know."
"But you didn't."
"I didn't need to."
Zuko studied him. "You fight like someone who's learned from pain. Not just training. Experience."
Alec gave a small nod. "That's why I came here."
"To get hurt?"
"To understand what hurts. And how to stop it."
Zuko looked at him for a long moment. Then handed him the salve. "Keep it. You'll need it."
He stood.
"You're not just getting stronger. You're learning how to be strong. That's rarer than you think. That's what my uncle says."
Alec looked up. "Then why are you here, Prince Zuko?"
Zuko offered a faint, almost sad smile. "Maybe I'm still figuring that out."
He turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.
Alec sat back, breathing slow.
The crowd still cheered in the distance.
---
The Colosseum roared.
Somewhere in the smoke-thick balconies, a noble spilled his wine as he stood, cheering. Others laughed, jeered, and slammed bets down like hammers on copper. Above it all, the announcer's voice cracked through the rising haze:
"Tonight's challenger... the beast of Basalt Hold... GROKK!"
The far gate screamed open.
What stepped through was less man and more mountain. Grokk stood seven feet tall, his bare chest layered with scars like carved canyons. Shackles still clung to his wrists, ornamental at this point. With each step, the arena floor shuddered. His arms? As thick as tree trunks. His smile? Pure bloodlust.
Alec did not flinch.
He stood across the pit — slender, blindfolded, fan wrapped in cloth. The whispers had grown since his last match. The nobles called him the "Blind Ember" now, part myth, part rumor, all spectacle.
But Alec didn't care about nicknames.
He was here for control.
Grokk cracked his knuckles like thunder. "You're the one they cheer for? You look like a nap."
Alec's voice was calm. "Let's see how loud you are after the first fall."
The gong rang and the fight began.