Cass’s POV

Pregnant?

The word echoed in my skull like a death knell. I thought back—my missed cycle, the bouts of nausea I’d dismissed as the arena’s filth. I had been so consumed by the war, by Colt, by the fight for survival, that I had been blind to the life growing within me.

I am a slave in a cage,

I thought, my hands trembling as I touched my flat stomach.

And I am carrying a child into the mouth of hell.

I had to get out. Not just for myself, but for this tiny, impossible spark of life. I began to frantically check the bolts of my mask, searching for a weakness, when a cold, familiar voice cut through the air.

Ezra.

I recoiled into the shadows, shielding my face as he and his witch, Sienna, strolled past the bars. He looked at Kanda with naked greed, but when his eyes swept toward me, he saw nothing but a 'gimmick.'

"Imagine, Sienna," Ezra mused, his voice dripping with sadistic promise. "My brother fighting in here every day, with no hope of escape. All while he watches Cassopeia by my side."

"By your side?" Sienna hissed. "I thought you wanted her dead."

"I want them to suffer first," he snapped. "I’ll make her my whore until I’m bored of her. She’ll watch him fight for his life, while he watches her become mine."

I stood in the darkness, teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached.

Delusional bastard.

He didn't even realize his victim was standing feet away, listening to his every perverted fantasy.

Later, Honora approached the bars, her expression urgent. "I’m leaving," she whispered, "but I sense a blockage in your power. It’s tied to your mother—a spell of my own doing, perhaps."

She pressed her hand to the bars. "Choke me."

"What?"

"Do it, or we’ll never have a moment!"

I lunged, grabbing her throat—gently, but convincingly. Guards swarmed, dragging her back, but not before she pressed a cold, heavy object into my palm. A golden triangular pendulum.

"Hide it," she gasped before they hauled her away to Zao’s chambers.

I slipped the golden chain under my rags. Immediately, a hum of warmth pulsed against my skin, a stark contrast to the numbing cold of the prison. It was a fragment of my own magic, finally clawing its way back to the surface.

That evening, the arena was different. The air tasted of static and blood.

"Nubian Pharaoh and the Persian Princess," the guard grunted, shoving us toward the gate. "You're up."

I stepped out, my hand resting protectively over my stomach. I looked up at the dais—Zao, Ezra, and Sienna. Ezra grinned, clearly expecting a massacre.

But as we reached the center of the pit, the second gate didn't open. The announcer’s voice boomed across the stands, dripping with malicious glee.

"Oh, what a twist, ladies and gentlemen! Our two favorites—head to head!"

My heart stopped. Kanda stiffened beside me, her eyes widening in horror.

"No," I whispered. "We can't."

Kanda’s posture shifted. The warmth in her eyes hardened into a desperate, feral resolve. She stepped back, dropping into a combat stance. "I’m sorry, Cass," she muttered, her voice thick with pain. "I cannot lose."

"Kanda, don't do this!"

"Ready yourself!" she shouted, the crowd erupting into a frenzy.

I raised my daggers, my breath hitching. I wasn't just fighting for my life anymore. I was fighting for my child, against the only friend I had left.